All Creatures Great and Small
by girlofring1
Summary: Completed: Will Frodo survive before the remaining Fellowship rescues him, or will it be too late?
1. Default Chapter

All Creatures Great and Small  
  
Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship struggled down Caradhras for the last day and had finally reached the valley, where the snow had been melting and the color of green was showing through. Gandalf was leading the tired Compay with Gimli, following using his ax as a walking stick. Then Legolas, light footed and graceful, never leaving any prints. Merry and Pippin making a game of jumping into the tracks Gandalf left behind. Sam wasn't far behind leading Bill the pack pony. From time to time, Sam sneaked a sugar cube to the pony to keep him moving through the cold snow. He knew Bill was tired and when they stopped, Sam was going to properly brush the pony down and give him a proper drink. Following closely was also Boromir then Frodo. Frodo had been apprehensive of Boromir since the incident with the Ring. Frodo had lost the Ring from around his neck after he had lost his footing in the snow and tumbled a few feet down the slope. Boromir had picked up the Ring, and in Frodo's eyes he seemed entranced by it. Frodo had remembered that he had heard a voice coming from the Ring trying to seduce him into putting it on. He was sure that the Ring was somehow communicating with Boromir. Then from behind him, Frodo heard Aragorn's commanding voice break into Boromirs reverie. "Give the Ring back to Frodo." Boromir did give the Ring back to Frodo, but hesitantly. As a result, Frodo felt uneasy in Boromir's presence and tried to keep closer to either Aragorn or Gandalf. Aragorn was bringing up the rear and looking towards Gandalf, contemplating what their next course of action would be when he noticed Frodo. Frodo appeared to be favoring his left side, lower back region, appearing to massage the area. How long has he been doing that? Aragorn asked berating himself for not paying attention. He would surely ask him about it later, if it warranted it.  
  
Gandalf finally called a halt for the night. The sun was slowly sinking behind the mountainside, its yellow orange rays filtering through the trees unto the forest floor. The small clearing he picked for their campsite was open yet concealing from unwanted eyes. The tall tree's foliage formed a canopy from a birds eye view. There were bushes circling the dell. On closer inspection, if anyone or thing should happen to run through them, the branches were thick enough that a loud "snap" would alarm the Fellowship of an intruder.  
  
"I'm glad we finally stopped," Pippin declared, "My feet could not take another step. I believe after being frozen then thawed, they feel like they are going to fall off!" The tweenager had dropped his pack when his sensitive ears picked up the sound of trickling water. He followed the sound to a nearby rock. He could see the sparkling clear water following a worn path through the center of the rock. He circled around to the back of the rock where the water had been collecting into a shallow pool. It was obviously a natural runoff from the melting snow. "Oh!" he delighted as he sank to his knees. He dipped his hands into the cool water to take a mouthful when he felt a hand pull him back. He was about to give his cousin a tongue lashing for interrupting him when his eyes were caught in Gandalf's gaze.  
  
"Peregrin Took! Be careful!" Gandalf snapped, but protectively. " I feel that Bill needs a drink first," he insinuated that Bill was expendable.  
  
Merry had immediately come over to Pip's side when he heard Gandalf. "Pip, you always want to be first. But let Bill take a sip to make sure it is safe." Merry spoke comfortingly, ruffling his cousin's curly head.  
  
Sam had led Bill to the water and let the pony drink. A few moments passed before Gandalf declared it safe, seeing as how the pony did not tumble over. The rest of the Company made way for the desperately needed water.  
  
"Sorry, Sam," Merry apologized as Sam led Bill away.  
  
"I know Mr. Merry," Sam responded tying Bill's reins to a nearby tree and proceeded to unload the packs. Frodo stood by Sam and patted his shoulder and smiled. "Sam," he began, " I know how fond you are of Bill. I do not think Gandalf would put him in harms way." Then he, too, helped unload the pony.  
  
"Thank ye, Mr. Frodo," he replied. As he watched Frodo unload a pack, he noticed that Frodo was tending his back and had to ask. "Ye all right, Mr. Frodo. You need Mr.Strider?"  
  
"No, Sam. It will be all right. Just tired achy muscles. Not used to having an avalanche of snow on top of me. Just need a good nights rest." He just hoped Sam would leave it at that. He was sure it was just achy muscles.  
  
Sam thought it over and decided it was best not to probe any further. He would talk to Mr. Strider about it later.  
  
Sam did not know it at the time, but Aragorn had been watching as well. Legolas stood with Aragorn to observe their surroundings noting that his friend seemed concerned about something. He could probably guess it was most likely the Ringbearer or the fact that they had been forced back down the mountain by the evil of Saruman..  
  
"What is troubling you, my friend?" Legolas asked.  
  
"Nothing. It will be fine. I need to discuss our next plan of action with Gandalf." Aragorn spoke. Not the truth, and he knew Legolas knew that he wasn't. Their friendship had been forged through the years, and words sometimes did not need to come between them. Legolas tilted his head gracefully in acknowledgement and slowly withdrew from Aragorn, leaving him to his thoughts.  
  
Aragorn was very concerned for Frodo. He was watching the hobbit more closely now and had counted each time he had brought his hand to his back. That was ten in the last quarter hour. He approached the crouching hobbit with caution. He did not like hovering over Frodo, but something was wrong and he wanted to find out what was amiss.  
  
Frodo was on his hands and knees spreading out his bedroll when he had spotted the familiar leather boots stop in front of his hands. Frodo did not look up. He kept spreading out his bedroll.  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
Frodo looked up to the owner of the boots with a questioning look, brows furrowing  
  
"Are you all right? You keep tending your back," Aragorn let his observations be known. Frodo was sitting on his knees now and Aragorn had come down eye level. "I do not want you to feel as though I am prying, but you were in front of me on our way down the mountain and I could not help but notice."  
  
"I am all right, Aragorn. I am weary just as everyone else," Frodo felt belittled and literally weary of the constant questions. His voice broke, " I can walk and will walk to Mount Doom with this cursed thing, no matter how heavy it seems to be," he stated a little harsh. Then he figured that Sam had something to do with Aragorn's question. "Did Sam put you up to this?" he demanded, cheeks flushed with those huge blue eyes glaring up at Aragorn .  
  
Aragorn was taken back with this sudden infuriated hobbit. He had to think of his reply quickly and not be insulting at the same time. All eyes were upon the pair. "I know, we are all tired, and we all need to keep up our strength. I was just merely concerned for your health and of the rest of the Fellowship during the Quest." Aragorn softly spoke, hoping to deflect some of Frodo's anger.  
  
Frodo was too tired to argue. He had worked himself into a state and hated to blow up at the Ranger. He knew Aragorn meant no harm. Neither did Sam. It must be the Ring, he concluded. Frodo cast his eyes down to the ground, not fixing on any particular point. "I am sorry, Aragorn," he mumbled the apology.  
  
"Frodo," Aragorn dropped to his knees and began to reach out when Frodo pulled away. He then got up and walked beyond the perimeter of camp. Aragorn pushed himself up to standing, ready to sprint after him, when a small hand caught his coat tails. He looked down into the blue eyes of the owner of the hand stalling him.  
  
"Let me go, Aragorn. I will talk with him. Just let him have a moment?" Merry begged. He knew his cousin well, and his brooding methods. When Frodo had lived at Brandy Hall, Merry knew every one of Frodo's moods. This one was a classic. He knew that Frodo would apologize, realizing he was wrong. Then he would retreat to either his room or his favorite reading place to think things through. After he cooled down, he would come back to the individual to make amends and all would be forgiven.  
  
Aragorn nodded and added, "Be careful, Meriadoc. Make it quick. I will follow you in a few minutes."  
  
Merry nodded and ran as swiftly as his feet would carry him, following the path Frodo had taken.  
  
Sam had busied himself, not trying to eavesdrop. He heard Frodo's raised voice then seen him disappear beyond the bushes. He was about to forget what he was tending to and run after Frodo, when he seen Merry go in the same direction. Aragorn strolled over to Sam, "Do not worry, Sam, Merry will bring him back."  
  
Sam found Pippin standing at his side placing a hand on his shoulder, also looking down the path his cousins had taken.  
  
Aragorn glanced at Legolas and nodded. As if reading Aragorn's thoughts, Legolas stayed at his post, keeping an elf's eye and ear on the exiting hobbits.  
  
Merry finally found Frodo sitting on a moss covered log, legs drawn up to his chest, resting his chin on knees. Merry plopped himself down on the log, causing some dust to go airborne. He looked deeply into his cousins troubling eyes. Merry could tell from Frodo's red swollen eyes he had been crying.  
  
"You know," he began to speak, "We all worry. This Quest has got us all on edge, cousin."  
  
"Sometimes I wonder why I did it. Why I said I would take it. Why you, Pippin, and Sam volunteered to come with me, " Frodo mumbled looking into his cousins eyes. Tears threatening again. He promised himself he would not cry in front of Merry.  
  
"I just cannot believe you just said that!" Merry exclaimed, jumping to his feet obtaining Frodo's undivided attention. "Your heart is so big, so trusting of everyone, that you would save the world. You love the Shire, the streams, the woods.every living thing!" Merry declared waving his arms gesturing to the surrounding forest, tears threatening to spill.  
  
Frodo's eyes darted around looking at what Merry was gesturing to. Then his eyes fell back on Merry. He knew Merry was speaking the truth. Sometimes he felt Merry knew him too well. "It is the Ring, Merry," Frodo tried to explain. "The power is growing, and.I seem to be tiring more easily as we get closer to our destination." Frodo again cast his eyes down in shame, not wanting to frighten Merry.  
  
Merry then knelt back down beside Frodo wrapping his arm around Frodo's shoulders, comforting him.  
  
"I know, Frodo. That is why the rest of us have been more protective of you. We know you carry a great responsibility. We just wanted you to know that you will not be alone. No matter what happens. We are here to help you," Merry explained.  
  
Frodo looked back over to Merry and laid his head on Merry's shoulder, squeezing Merry's hand that hung over his shoulder. " I guess we should go back now. I figure Aragorn is itching to come after us."  
  
"Well, he did say he was not going to be far behind," Merry joked. He got up and offered his hand to help Frodo up. Frodo took one look at his cousin, smiling, batted his proffered hand out the way replying, "I am not that weary yet, that I cannot stand on my own."  
  
"I am going to fetch them back. They have been gone too long," Aragorn told Legolas . Legolas caught Aragorn's arm, staying him. Legolas had been intuned to the hobbits footsteps. Even though the hobbits were as stealth as elves, Legolas could still catch the sound of soft padded footfalls made while trampling through the underbrush.  
  
"No need, they are on their way back," Legolas smiled, his head tilted gracefully towards the path that the hobbits had previously taken. Aragorn nodded, then as he was turning back to tell Sam the news, he noticed Legolas' facial expression had changed to a frown, eyebrows furrowing.  
  
"What is it?" Aragorn questioned, had on hilt, with a little height to his voice.  
  
"It sounds of a wounded animal," Legolas replied.  
  
"Wounded animal?" Aragorn's concern grew for the hobbits coming back. What if they ran into it? If he knew Frodo, and he believed he did, Frodo would try and help it, at any cost.  
  
Gandalf had detected the change of tone in Aragorn's voice and caught the word animal in Legolas response. Worry lines creased his brows as his thought also was on the intention of the Ring-bearer. tbc 


	2. chapter 2

All Creatures Great and Small: Chapter 2 Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, nor make any money from this publication.  
  
Chapter 2  
  
As Frodo and Merry steadily walked back down the path towards camp, Frodo's keen hearing picked up a slight whine seeming to come from a group of trees they were passing by. Merry also heard it, slowing his pace beside Frodo.  
  
"Frodo?" Merry asked.  
  
"Do you hear it, Merry?"  
  
"Yes. Coming from over in those trees," Merry confirmed.  
  
Frodo found himself walking towards the sound. The whining was getting louder as he approached the area it was coming from. Merry followed silently.  
  
"Let us have a look," Frodo said, curiosity getting the best of him. Frodo quietly walked towards the sound. Merry, on the other hand, really did not want to meet the thing that was making the noise, he felt very uncomfortable with the whole situation, but he knew that his cousin would not leave until he knew that whatever was making the noise was not hurt.  
  
As Frodo passed by the first tree, then another, he eyes were scanning the tall broad trunk trees until they were drawn up over his head where the sound was coming from. Frodo had spotted a rope lying on the forest floor, barely hidden with leaves. Following the rope with his eyes from the forest floor, it trailed the length of the tree up into the air looping over a nearby branch, blossoming out into a net made of rope. The net had been sprung and hanging in mid air was figure trapped.  
  
That was where the sound was coming from. Frodo could not get a good look at the figure. He made for the tree holding the net and tried to find a way to climb it. Noting he did not have many options, Frodo knew he could easily scale it if he had Merry give him a boost. "Merry, come give me a lift?"  
  
Merry had his eyes glued to the swinging figure as well, and his attention was diverted back to Frodo when he spoke. "What are you doing?" Merry asked knowing good and well what his cousin's intentions were.  
  
"Just give me a lift. We need to help it," Frodo pleaded to his cousin. "I'll cut the net down with Sting, set it free, then we can leave. All right?"  
  
Merry did not think this was the safest way to handle this, but he knew Frodo could not leave someone helpless and alone. He knew himself, he would not leave someone helpless as well. So, Merry strolled over to Frodo, interlacing his fingers providing a makeshift foothold, "Here, put your foot in my hands and I will lift you up to the branch," he said. Frodo placed his foot into Merry's hand, steadying himself with his hands on Merry's shoulder. Merry hoisted Frodo into the air almost missing the branch he was aiming for. Merry did not realize how light Frodo was. He thought he might have overestimated his strength. Then it occurred to him "He is losing weight. No wonder Sam is on him all the time to eat".  
  
"Merry! Not so hard," Frodo scolded, grabbing onto the lowest limb of the tree. Frodo barely managed to pull himself up and over the branch with an Omph. His shoulder muscles did not have the strength they once had. He had scaled the whole tree branch by branch. At times knocking some debris into Merry's face.  
  
"Oi, watch what you are doing!" Merry shook his head, wiping his face with the edge of his sleeve.  
  
Frodo looked down to his cousin and grinned. He had finally made it to the branch that the net was tied to. He sat down, wrapping his legs and arms around the branch, inching his way forward to the end where the rope was tied. He then lifted his head, eyes locking with the eyes of the trapped individual. From what Frodo could tell, the being had small reddish eyes, but not frightening. The face was framed by long silver hair seeming to shine when the light struck it just so. The face and hands also had that same silver sheen to it, the rest of the body being covered in a bluish silver robe. Frodo had never seen such beauty before, except for the Elves. "Do not be frightened, I am going to cut you loose," Frodo whispered.  
  
The being tilted its head at Frodo's voice. Frodo did not know if it understood, but the being had stopped struggling in the net.  
  
"Frodo! What is taking so long?" Merry shouted up to him.  
  
Frodo brought himself to stop staring and calmly spoke, "I am cutting the rope now, Merry." Frodo slowly reached for Sting, unsheathing it with his right hand bringing the naked blade up to his breast. He clamped his legs tight around the branch, balancing himself. He raised Sting above his head, and with a swift strike came down on the thick rope, slicing through it with ease.  
  
As the being fell, Frodo heard a "hiss" from the ground. He thought the noise was coming from the being when it fell, but at that same moment something had penetrated Frodo's calf, pinning him to the tree. "Ahhhhh," he screamed, tears of pain spilling down his cheek, clutching his leg with his left hand. He dared to look down to his leg, finding a large arrow had unknowingly been triggered from a hidden crossbow when he cut the rope.  
  
Merry had watched when the being fell and tried to open the net, setting it free. The being was so frightened that when the rope finally came off of him, he pushed past Merry's helping hands and ran out of sight. Merry then heard Frodo scream and looked up into the tree as he spotted the arrow protruding from Frodo's thigh.  
  
"Frodo!" Merry exclaimed, propelling himself forward tripping over another hidden rope. As Merry got up, Sting nearly missed him as it dropped from the hand holding it, landing in the soft earth, blade imbedded. Something wet dropped onto Merry's face when he looked up into the tree.. He brought his hand to his face wiping at it. When he looked at his fingers, they were stained with blood. Frodo's blood. Merry backed up to get a better view noticing two arrows pinning his cousin to the branch he had climbed out on. One was through Frodo's left thigh and the other through his left hand. Frodo's sweat drenched forehead hung down, touching the branch. Merry could hear his cousin whimpering. He could also see that Frodo's back was arching up and down. Merry was wringing his hands within his vest, walking around the tree hoping to find a low enough branch to climb up on. He kept talking, reminding himself he needed to remain calm. "Frodo? Frodo, can you hear me?" Merry yelled walking out from under the tree to try to see Frodo's face from the opposite side.  
  
Frodo turned his head toward Merry's direction, trying to lay his left cheek on top of his right hand for support. "Mer-," Frodo tried to swallow back his pain, attempting to speak again. "Merry," he gulped, trying to sound firm, "Leave, now!" he closed his eyes, bearing the throbbing pain shooting through his leg and hand.  
  
"I will not leave, but I cannot find a way up to you," Merry said defeated. "I am going for help. I will bring back Strider. He should have been looking for us by now. You will be all right?"  
  
Frodo took a deep breath, "And where.do you think.I am going?" breathing hard from the sustained throbbing pain in his leg and hand.  
  
Merry nodded then quickly ducked his head from Frodo's sight as a tear fell from his eyes and ran swiftly out of the trap that he and his cousin happened upon.  
  
Frodo finally succumbed to the pain and let the darkness take him. He did not hear the commotion of men's voices and one little hobbit struggling to get free.  
  
Tbc 


	3. CHAPTER 3

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and make no money off of these stories.  
  
All Creatures Great and Small  
  
Chapter 3: MERRY IS CAUGHT AND SAM TRIES TO LEAVE THE CAMP  
  
Not even a league away, there sat an encampment clustered in the small valley. White tents mainly dotted the landscape except for two buildings made of logs, mud and a straw thatched roof. Smoke was billowing out of the widest one. This is where the residents gathered in the evening to eat, drink and discuss business of the day. The second, which was next door to it was just a tad smaller. Its sole purpose was for storage of the harvest. It also bore a chimney, but no smoke was coming from its stack today.  
  
Two men, each different as night and day exited the bigger building. The tall, gruffy beard man was the height of six foot, maybe just a couple inches taller. His shirt bore the stains of perspiration and dirt even though he had cleansed it the night before, was tucked into dark colored trousers, being held up by suspenders. Because of his height, they seemed to ride up and expose his ankles, making him a funny site indeed since his well worn black boots did not cover that area of his legs. His head bore a wide brimmed straw hat to cover his light colored unkempt stringy hair hanging to his shoulders. The man's calloused covered hands clasped tightly to the handle of a reaper slung over his left shoulder as he strode alongside a younger slender man.  
  
"Ready to harvest, Bartholomew?" the bigger man asked.  
  
Bartholomew thought kindly of Larson, but he knew he did not like being called by his formal name. He had preferred Bart, but he knew his friend called it in teasing. Bart was of shorter stature, being only of five foot eight, slender build. Considered a weakling among his townfolk, he could still bring in a harvest as well as the next big man. He was a little bit more kempt than Larson, his dark hair shorter and thicker. He also wore a straw hat to keep the sun from reaching his fair face. A fair colored shirt was tucked into his trousers as well being held with suspenders. The choice tool he was toting over his shoulder was a hoe. They were the last men to leave the encampment and were to meet the rest of the farmers in the field. "I feel ready to tackle the field and get back home to my lady. I dant feel too cumfortable with them bein' all alone, if you know what I mean," Bart stated looking distantly to the field.  
  
"That was the only way I could get rid of 'em. You know we din it have a choice, Bart. It will be over soon. Did ja set the trap last evenin'?" Lars looked down to Bart.  
  
Eyes retreating from the distance looking down to his feet. With a slow regretful nod he answered,"Yep,did."  
  
"Let's go check it. Maybe we have what we need," Bart said walking slightly to the left changing his direction towards an innocent grove of trees.  
  
Just as the two men were approaching, they saw a small figure rushing out from the trees, running in the opposite direction of the farmers. Bart and Lars realized that the blond headed figure had come from the trap that was set. "He'll tell someone for sure. Who's kid is he anyways?" Lars asked breaking into a run not letting Bart get a word in.  
  
The men were quick to catch up with the kid. Lars reached out with his long arm just as he got within reach of the boy and yanked him back by his collar, catching the boy off guard.  
  
"Let go! Let go...of me!" Merry managed to get out, unable to see his assailant at the time.  
  
Lars turned the feisty boy around. He was not going to let some sniveling little imp destroy his plan. He spun the boy around to face him taking in full view. Lars was appalled at what he saw. Someone who looked like a blond child, short stature but with big hairy feet. He did not know what this was, but this was no child. "What are you?" Lars gasped still having a hold onto Merry's collar.  
  
Merry did not answer, he took advantage of the mans grip slacking. Using his big foot, Merry kicked the big man in the knee cap. CRACK! The man was brought down crying in pain. Lars let go and Merry ran, but in the wrong direction. He had gotten turned around when the men caught up with him, that he forgot his bearings and did not realize he was not going back into the direction of the camp to get help for Frodo.  
  
"Get him, Bart! He could be one of 'im!" Lars yelled out, trying to get back up after recovering from the blow to his knee. Bart took off after Merry, with Lars trailing behind. Merry soon realized he was heading back towards Frodo, but did not want to lead these Big men to him. He diverted to the left and ran as fast and swiftly as he could.  
  
Bart smiled when the boy turned off the main path and slowed down. Lars caught up to Bart, "Why'd you stop?" Lars coughed out catching his breath.  
  
"He's trapped. 'Member we laid out the hay? It is a solid wall. He has no where to go but back out this way," Bart explained reminding the farmer not just a couple days earlier they had harvested this side, but did not bring it in yet.  
  
Just as Bart thought, Merry came running back out and they were ready for him. But Merry was ready for them as well. As they tried to rush him, a rock sailed through the air with accuracy striking its target in the head, stunning the same man he had kicked earlier. Lars hands flew up to his forehead cursing, missing the boy as he ran past. On the other hand, Merry only had time to truly aim one stone, and hoping that he could out run the slender looking man. He was wrong. Bart leapt on him quick, grabbing Merry's hands wrestling him down to the ground. He made sure to stay away from those feet. Placing his knee in the small of his back, he had successfully subdued the boy. Lars had again recovered, coming upon the now subdued boy. "Turn him over, Bart, I want to throw a stone on his head, but much bigger!" he growled with a gleam in his eye, a rock in his hand. Merry tried to squirm away, fear in his eyes.  
  
"You can't! He might be one of 'em. I want to go home soon and not haf to worry about eatin this winter," Bart said staying Lars hands.  
  
Merry's breathing slowed a bit, hoping the slender man would realize to set him free. He noticed Lars lowering the big rock and the other man Bart had loosened his grip upon Merry's arms.  
  
"What are you?" Lars asked peering down into Merry's face. "He doesn't look like them silver people. What you doin' in there?" Lars asked pointing back towards the trees that Merry had come out of.  
Merry did not answer. He did not trust them that well. The man was still peering into his face holding his chin roughly. "Maybe we can still give 'im to..."  
  
"Give him to whom?" a familiar voice to Merry's ears brought a smile to his face.  
  
*****************  
  
Back at camp, Sam was wringing his hands in his jacket. Pippin was trying to comfort himself as well as Sam. Gandalf had set them on a task to collect more firewood and to stack them neatly. Sam then busied himself with washing the pans, then trying to brush Bill. Then he just could not stand it anymore. Noticing that Gandalf had occupied himself at the other end of the camp, Sam made towards the direction Frodo and Merry had gone. Sam looked back towards where Gandalf was, seeing him still there, he turned and abrubtly met up with Gimli's ax barring his way to Mr.Frodo.  
  
"Where do you think you be goin' Master Gamgee?" Gimli asked, lowering his ax just a bit.  
  
"I need to make sure Mr.Frodo is safe. He needs me. I can't be staying here while he is out there and...and..."  
  
"And what Samwise?" Gandalf answered. "that we could lose you too? That when Frodo does come back with the others, we would then be tracking you as well. I understand your worry. I really do," Gandalf said as he gently knelt down and placed a hand upon Sam's shoulder. "I am worried for them, too. Frodo means more to me than a mere friend. So, let's just wait over here for them to return. Pippin needs comforting too. I know you can give him the support he needs while Merry is away as well," he coaxed guiding Sam back to the logs to sit beside Pippin.  
  
Gandald wandered back towards Gimli and nodded, thanking him silently for intervening. He leaned on his staff asking the Valor to watch over Frodo and Merry.  
  
******************  
  
tbc  
  
Thank you to Budgielover, Shirebound, Iorheal, linreal,pharaohess, jules6, t.l.arens. Thanks to you all for all your encouragement to continue this story. 


	4. chapter 4

All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 4  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own, no ever will own characters that belong to J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  
Merry runs after his cousin, Frodo, discovering his concern for his cousins. On their way back to camp, curiosity gets the best of them and into trouble.  
  
How long has it been since Merry left, Frodo thought to himself. They had not journeyed far and must have been halfway back to camp before they stopped to help that...Frodo reflected on the beauty of the creature. It was almost like an Elf, but it was not. He had hair the same color as the rain curtain in his dream. How it shimmered and reflected teh light like Mithril. Mithril? Bilbo gave him Mithril. A Mithril vest to protect him. It did not, however, protect his leg and hand. Oh, how his back ached. What he would not give just to straighted his back. Frodo looked at his injuries. The big ugly arrows protruding from his hand and thigh. Like some prize stuck pig. The intense pain had dulled, almost numb. If he just kept still he could keep the pain at bay he reminded himself. Frodo could not keep his eyes opened any longer. He felt cold, even though the sun was filtering through, warming his cloak. He let himself drift back off to sleep. It was more comfortable in the darkness.  
  
~~~~~~~~~********~~~~~~~~~  
  
" I asked you a question," the authoritative voice reverated between the two men's ears as they held onto Merry.  
  
Larson turned his head carefully as he knew the presence of a sword poised at his jawline. The sun glinted off the metal catching him the eye as he squinted up at the man. "What's it to ya?" he stated,not too smart of choosing his words carefully.  
  
Aragorn looked at the man. A farmer he concluded by the man's attire, noticing no weapons upon him, he still kept up his guard and answered, "He is a friend of ours. I would advise you to let him go".  
  
"Strider!" Merry frantically gathered himself up onto his feet, making his way over to the Ranger's side pulling onto the Ranger's coat.  
  
Bartholomew found that he was covered by an arrow aimed for his heart. He had not dared to look up until now to see that the person brandishing this weapon was no man, but an Elf. Bart slowly rose his arms in the air to let his captor know he was unarmed and not going to make trouble.  
  
"I will not ask you again, why were you chasing my friend and take him to whom?" Aragorn demanded again, making his point clear as the blade pushed a little into the soft flesh.  
  
"Strider!" Merry cried, trying to get Aragorn's attention, still tugging on his coat. Aragorn was ignoring him until his questioned was answered.  
  
"We are farmers," Bartholomew volunteered. "We saw this...this," Bartholomew was lost for words gesturing towards Merry, "child? He was running away from our traps. We did not want him to spoil them".  
  
Merry stopped tugging on Aragorn's coat when he had heard the confession. "You set them?" his voice rising, "How could you do this to another living being. YOU!" Merry held a glimmer of hatred in his eyes, unbecoming of the upbringing of being a gentlehobbit. If his cousin could see him Merry thought, Frodo would not approve, but Frodo could not see him because these men created traps to harm others. His cousin had been snared and could be dying. Merry leapt at the men. Before he could get one step further, Aragorn had grabbed Merry's coat. At the Ranger's surprise, he found himself straining muscles holding this hobbit back from doing harm to these men.  
  
"Merry, what has happened?" Legolas asked this time. He still kept his arrow trained on the farmers, but he also had noticed that Merry was by himself. The question arose to the whereabouts of Frodo.  
  
Somehow, Aragorn had come to the same conclusion as the Elf. Steadying Merry, he got down on knee level and peered into the hobbits face. As he peered closely, Aragorn noted blood on Merry's face. "Merry, are you hurt?" he queried the hobbit. Merry shook his head. Tears were starting to well in those green orbs.  
  
"No. This is Frodo's blood," he cried.  
  
"Merry, where is Frodo?" Aragorn asked as calmly as he could.  
  
Merry sniffed and slowly raised his left arm, pointing back into the direction the men confessed of laying traps.  
  
Aragorn's heart stopped, just briefly. He rose, sheathing his sword. He grabbed Bartholomew roughly by the arm and directed him towards the grove of trees. "Show us, now!" he commanded. Legolas gestured to Larson to follow, as he placed the arrow back into his pack and ran with his bow at his side. Merry was leading the pack as fast he could, his padded feet running across the forest floor pounding to the rhythm of his heartbeat.  
  
~~~~~*******~~~~~~~  
  
Merry was the first to enter through the trees, followed by the men, Aragorn then Legolas. Merry was wringing his hands as Aragorn looked at the surrounding area. The rope net that lay on the ground after Frodo had cut it. The homemade crossbows that were once hidden by leaves, now exposed, their ammunition dispensed.  
  
Merry stopped just to the side of the fallen net, looking up, pointed his stubby finger to a cloaked figure straddling a tree branch.  
  
"Oh, Elbereth," Legolas breathed.  
  
Aragorn's mouth dropped open, appalled eyes taking in the sight of the small form in the tree, punctured with arrows. Anger and fear surged within Aragorn as he raced to the tree holding Frodo prisoner. Using this adrenaline to his advantage, the Ranger of the North leaped up grasping the lowest branch, gaining momentum swinging his legs over his head landing firmly on the branch. He began scaling the tree branch by branch until he reached the one Frodo was straddling.  
  
Legolas and Merry watched with anxious eyes as Aragorn inched his way to Frodo's still form. "Merry what happened?" Legolas asked.  
  
"The traps on the ground are aimed for the tree. He has been struck by both the arrows. The first one let go when Frodo released the net. The second," he paused, then continued, "the second was my fault. I accidently set it off, also hitting him," Merry tried to explain.  
  
Bartholomew had tears in his eyes as he looked on. "We did not mean any harm. Our farms are constantly being raided by a band of Orcs. We would not survive the winter. One day, the leader said if we could capture one of them silver haired creatures, they would leave us and our families alone. We did not mean any harm, honest!" he repeated.  
  
Aragorn finally closed the distance between him and Frodo. As Aragorn stroked the dirt tear streaked face, the faintest sigh escaped Frodo's dry cracked lips.  
  
"Tithen min?" Aragorn whispered as he gently placed his fingertips just below the jawline feeling for the pulse of life. He breathed a sigh of relief as the vessel pulsed strongly under his fingers. Upon Aragorns observations, he noticed that a thin arrow was indeed piercing through the back of Frodo's hand, crusted blood around the shaft. The second arrow was slightly thicker, penetrating the hobbits thigh. He felt around the left leg and found no broken bones. A slight moan escaped from Frodo as he applied pressure to the injured leg. "Oh, Elbereth, help him," Aragorn prayed.  
  
"He is still unconcious. I will have to break the shafts," he called down to the anxious party. With his left hand, Aragorn firmly grasped the shaft imbedded in Frodo's hand quickly, snapping it off letting it fall from his hand. Frodo stirred. The Ranger waited a moment before proceeding to the next step. He then slipped his big hand under Frodo's fingers making his way towards the palm. He then took a deep breath and forced the appendage away from its resting place on the branch slipping it off the broken shaft.  
  
Frodo thought he had heard a voice. A familiar voice. Was it Aragorn? Maybe. Merry was supposed to be going to get help. He did not want to wake, just to stay in teh comfort of teh darkness. Then he felt a soft touch cross his cheek. Like his mothers. When he was very young she would caress his cheek when she wanted to soothe him. Now more than ever, he wanted to stay in teh darkness. It was not to last.  
  
Frodo bolted upright, screaming out in pain, his blue eyes wide. The pain was like fire rushing up, engulfing his body, not being able to breathe. Panting hard through the pain, he brouht his injured hand to his chest protecting it under his right armpit. It did not hit him right away that his hand was no longer pinned to the tree. His eyes finally came into focus, his muddled mind coming to reality.  
  
"Shh...Frodo. I am sorry to hurt you," the familiar voice spoke while rubbing his back.  
  
Frodo sagged backwards, finally able to stretch his back, when he saw Aragorn's face loom over his. As his hard painting subsided to weak whimpers, he tried to speak through parched lips, "Ara...gorn? I m sor...ry," he managed. Aragorn nodded, brushing the sweat drenched curls from Frodo's forehead. Frodo's eyes furrowed and asked,"where are we?"  
  
Aragorn thought for a minute and answered,"You are still in the tree. Or do you not remember?"  
  
"I 'member," He slurred. "Just wanted to know if you knew where we were?"  
  
Aragorn shook his head. It amazed him that in this situation, Frodo could find light of it and jest. He and his fellow hobbits were most amazing, and he was glad to know them. "We need to get you down. This is going to be most painful," he told Frodo as he peeled off his glove, folding it in half then putting it to Frodo's mouth. "Bite down,Frodo."  
  
Frodo's eyes widened, but he took the glove into his mouth biting down, sweat forming on his brow anticipating the pain. A vibration reverated through his thigh as Aragorn broke the shaft to the arrow in his thigh. Frodo's hand caught up in his cloak, clutching the fabric tightly. His nares flaring, while trying to mouth breath around the glove in his mouth. He sagged again as the pain subsided, his hands releasing the fabric.  
  
"Frodo, you need to lean forward, as I try to slide your leg off the shaft," Aragorn explained. Reluctantly, Frodo leaned forward as far as he could, and for the first time seen his cousin below him with Legolas at his side. He tried to smile, to let his cousin know that he was all right. He did not know if Merry would even see with this big glove in his mouth. After what seemed a long time for Aragorn to get in position he felt a hand on his thigh and a voice whispering in his ear, "I will be quick."  
  
Aragorn felt bad, that he had caused more pain to the Ring-bearer. He peered one last time at Frodo's face before continuing, noticing how blanche he had become. Aragorn the healer detached himself stating that this was necessary. In one quick motion, grabbed the small leg and slid it as fast as he could off the broken shaft, rotating Frodo's hip upward. The limb hung lifeless off the branch. Frodo bit down hard, leaving teeth impressions in Aragorn's glove. The pain shot through the little body causing involuntary spasms. Frodo lost the glove from his mouth and a loud wail echoed throughout the grove towards the camp. The Ranger had manuevered Frodo to a cradling position, being careful not to jostle the limp leg. Blood flowed freely now, and he had to get him to the ground quickly to staunch the wound. Aragorn swaddled his cloak about the sobbing hobbit, applying pressure to the wound. He was amazed at the level of pain this hobbit could endure, wishing to himself that unconciousness would claim him soon. If he was awake when he staunched the wound, no telling if Frodo would be able to bear it. As he looked around for a way down, Legolas suddenly appeared.  
  
"I can manage him. Let me take him," Legolas held out his arms awaiting the bundle. Frodo was placed in Legolas's arm, seated on his hip, head resting on Legolas's shoulder. With one hand, Legolas seemed to float down from limb to limb until he reached bottom. Gently, he placed Frodo on the forest floor, letting Merry touch him to make sure he was all there.  
  
Aragorn soon made it to the ground and began his thorough examination. Looking for something to bind Frodo's leg, he spied Merry's sword belt. "Merry, I need your belt to stop the blood," Aragorn asked. Merry complied, taking the belt off hurriedly, handing it to Aragorn. With the belt tied tightly above the bleeding wound, Aragorn once again scooped Frodo into his arms making way to camp.  
  
tbc  
  
After what seemed like a long moment, Frodo felt a hand on his thigh, then Aragorn's voice in his ear whispering,"It will be quick." 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just put them in these stories.  
  
Thank you to all who reviewed and hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Aragorn will be tending to Frodo, then we will find out in the next chapter who the "Silver" people are. Without further adieu, let us begin.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
When the wail resonated throughout the woods, two pairs of hobbit ears perked as they recognized the pain filled cry of one of their own. Sam quickly rose to his full height, even though it was only 3foot 6inches, determined he was going through Gimli and his lethal ax. As he started for the path, he felt a hand tug at his coat. Looking down, he found himself staring into Pippins tired red glassy eyes. He sat back down beside Frodo's cousin. "Mr. Pippin, I've got to go. You know that was Mr. Frodo," Sam said as he had recognized the same agonized scream when his master had been stabbed on Weathertop.  
  
"I know," the youngster said then looking up with his tearing puppy eyes asking," but what about Merry? Where is he?"  
  
Before he could answer a shadow fell over them. Sam looked up to see Gandalf standing over them.  
  
Gandalf's old bones creaked as he lowered himself down to sit upon the same log bringing him to their eye level. "Samwise, Frodo will be found. Aragorn will return with him and Merry, " emphasizing the last name as he looked fondly at Pippin. "We cannot afford for anyone else to go missing. This Fellowship has already been delayed when we came back down the mountain," he spoke having a complacement hand on Sam's shoulder all the while.  
  
"Gandalf, you heard that scream, you know it to be Mr. Frodo. He's in trouble!" Sam declared a little too harshly. As a rush of heat rose in his cheeks, Sam bowed his head as he soon realized he just stepped out of bounds for a servant. "Forgive me, Gandalf," he spoke sitting back down on the log.  
  
"It is all right, Samwise. No offense taken. It is good to know that Frodo has indeed a such a dedicated friend in you," Gandalf replied.  
  
All of a sudden, there was a rustling coming from the bushes. Gimli, who had already been standing guard, he had his ax in hand poised ready to strike down whomever the intruder was. Gandalf quickly stood up, robe folds twisting with his body, hiding Sam and Pippin behind him, staff in hand. Even though being hidden by Gandalf's robes, Sam and Pippin both drew their swords.  
  
Boromir had taken postion crouching down behind a bush, concealing himself behind his battle shield, sword drawn, ready to spring into action.  
  
The rustling stopped as soon as a gold haired hobbit pushed through, running into Gimli. Boromir had to reframe from pounching, releasing the tension in his thighs, breathing a sigh of relief. Gandalf also released his breath and moved himself away from Sam and Pippin.  
  
"Oi! Watch out, Gimli!" Merry spouted as he ran into the dwarf.  
  
"Merry!" Pippin exlcaimed and ran into his cousins arms, bowling him off his feet unto the ground. Sam followed, expecting to find Frodo to come out on his own accord, even though he knew deep in the back of his mind it was wishful thinking. The next one to appear was Aragorn carrying a small bundle with a patch of black curls protruding from one end.  
  
Boromir was standing now as Aragorn appeared, but right behind him, two strangers appeared escorted by Legolas. Legolas nodded at Boromir conveying that they were harmless, but warning to still keep an eye open. The strangers were led to the center of camp where they sat upon the log.  
  
Sam rushed Aragorn trying to take a peek at Frodo, grabbing onto the cloak covering him. He quickly retracted his hands as he felt something wet. The gardner brought his hand up to his face, frowning as he examined the red smear.  
  
Aragorn carefully laid the unconsious hobbit on the ground. He had been as careful as possible not to jostle Frodo, but the pain finally became unbearable and lost conciousness.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Mr.Frodo!" Sam called to his master, patting his hands against Frodo's face.  
  
Aragorn unwrapped Frodo from the cloak and the spot where Sam had felt the wetness, blood was seeping from an open wound on Frodo's thigh. Sam took off towards the campfire, grabbing a pot as he passed by Bill to start water boiling. He knew it was going to be needed. Gandalf observed the amount of blood on the cloak and Frodo's breeches. "How bad is it, Aragorn?" he asked bluntly.  
  
Aragorn had grabbed his travel bag, looking for medicinal herbs, bandages and something he could use to cauterize the thigh wound. "He has lost a lot blood complicated by a slight fever."  
  
"How?" Gandalf queried.  
  
"Merry can tell you, but those farmers over there are responsible for the traps that inflicted these injuries upon Frodo," Aragorn explained while schooling his anger, bringing forth the healer. Gandalf's eyes roved over towards the new comers. Under his scrutiny,the men bowed their heads in shame.  
  
"Here is your water, Strider," Sam sat the pan of hot water down, placing himself at Frodo's left side waiting for anything that Strider may need next. Strider looked up to Sam and nodded.  
  
Pippin had positioned himself at Frodo's head, cradling it in his lap, combing his fingers through the sweat soaked black curls. Merry had set his self on Pippin's right side, also trying to add any comfort. "Why is there a belt on his leg, Merry?" Pippin whispered blanching at the site of blood.  
  
"To help stop the bleeding, at least that is what Strider says," Merry answered as best he could. He was still feeling a bit shaky, knowing he was the cause his cousin was injured.  
  
"Legolas," Aragorn called to his companion standing behind the farmers. Legolas closed the distance quietly and knelt beside Aragorn as he was crushing Athelas leaves into the hot water. "I need one of your small knives to stop the bleeding," he whispered. Legolas 's brows quirked. "To cauterize the wound with," he answered quickly.  
  
Legolas nodded grasping a pearl embelished handled knife from it's sheath strapped to his back, placing it into Aragorn's hand.  
  
"Sam, dip this bandage into the Athelas water and wash his hand wound. Then wrap a clean dry bandage over it. Pippin," Aragorn asked trying to deter the youngster's mind to doing something useful, "please wipe Frodo's forehead. It will make him more comfortable." Pippin nodded, his curly locks bouncing and took the cloth from Sam after the excess water had been wrung out, applying it to his cousin's forehead. Sam's mind was whirling with questions as he tended his master. What had happened to cause these injuries, he thought to himself looking at the puncture mark in the hand going straight through.  
  
Bartholomew had been watching the man work on his friend, until the approaching grey bearded man caught his attention. He knew this man disapproved of what they had done. In fact, he was not proud of what he and his friend had done either. He needed to explain, as if that would somehow make this unfortunate situation better.  
  
"My friend relayed to me that you were the ones who had set the traps," Gandalf reprimanded as if he was a father scolding his children about some childish pranks. The newcomers did not respond, one still hanging his head below his shoulder, and the other apprehensive about what the Ranger was doing. "I am curious to know why two farmers need to have set traps up in the trees, instead of on the ground. What kind of game were you hunting?" he questioned again. Again no reply. Just as he was about to say something else, the smaller of the two men suddenly turned blanche, doubled over and vomited between his legs. The other man had taken a rag from his pocket to give to his companion to wipe his face after he had finished. Gandalf motioned for Boromir to give him his water skin, offering it to the man to rinse his mouth. "Thank you," Larson said and tended to his friend. Gandalf wondered what the man was staring at that made him so sick. He looked in the direction and saw what it must had been. Aragorn had started to wash Frodo's thigh, removing the crusted blood from wound. The water that was used had trickled down Frodo's thigh to the ground where it had pooled turning a crimson red.  
  
Legolas was helping Aragorn by rotating his blade in the fire, evenly heating it.  
  
"Gimli," Aragorn called. The dwarf's metal boots created a vibration as he thudded close the the Ranger. Laying aside his ax, he bent at the waist to listen as Aragorn spoke. "I need you to hold Frodo's right leg. He has two sites I need to cauterize and..." he paused taking a quick glance at the unconcious Ring-bearer before continuing, "if he should awaken during the procedure, you will need to steady him," he explained.  
  
"Aye," Gimli acknowledged kneeling down, effectively immobilizing Frodo's leg by placing one hand on the ankle and the other one on his upper thigh.  
  
As the red hot knife was brought out of the fire, all eyes were upon the Ranger as he began to staunch the bleeding wound. The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed the athelas aroma that had once filled the small camp site.  
  
Frodo's eyebrows started to furrough together, a slight moan escaping his lips. Pipping took his eyes away from what Aragorn was doing, bringing is attention back to wiping his cousin's brow. "Shh...it is all right."  
  
Merry noticed that Frodo was trying to pull his hand out of his grip. Merry held on a bit tighter leaning close to his cousin's ear crooning something only Frodo could hear.  
  
Frodo recognized the voice, trying to heed to it, but something was hurting him. He wanted to swat at whatever it was causing him pain. When he could not get his hand to move, he tried willing his legs to kick at the persistant thing hurting him. Realizing that his legs were not responding either, Frodo panicked. His breathing became labored, coming in short rasps, tossing his head from side to side.  
  
Satisfied that the treatment worked, Aragorn pulled the knife back from the entrance wound. Frodo's tense muscles relaxed, his breathing becoming normal at the burning pain subsided. Sam watched Aragorn as he repositioned his masters injured leg apart making room for him to access the exiting wound on the inside of the thigh. "What are you doing?" he questioned with a high tone to his voice.  
  
"I have to repeat the procedure on the inside of his leg, Sam. It is to stop the bleeding," he explained to the gardner.  
  
"Why can't you sew it instead of burnin' 'im like that?"  
  
"Because, Sam, he was injured in such a manner that his whole leg is bleeding inside. This is a better way. I do not like it anymore than you do," he tried to explain. He did not want to alarm Sam in the manner his master had obtained his injuries. Now was not a good time to explain. He would find out soon enough when he questioned the farmers himself.  
  
The knife touched the skin, cinging the flesh. Frodo's eyes popped open. Moaning louder, breathing becoming labored again. This time he struggled harder against his kinsmen holding him down. "St...Stop!" he managed to blurt out, eyes not focused on anyone.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam called getting Frodo to focus on him,"Strider is tendin' your wounds. Do you understand?"  
  
Frodo heard his name being called and turned his head towards the owner of the voice. "Oh, Sam. It...hurts," he cried as tears of pain rolled down his face.  
  
"I know. It'll be over soon. Hold on," he assured his master, squeezing Frodo's arm.  
  
Through his tears, Frodo tried to comprehend what Sam was saying. As his eyes looked toward the cause of his pain, he saw Aragorn bending over his injured leg. Aragorn had pulled the knife blade away to examine the wound, but was not satisfied with the result. The blood had not stopped completely. When he had lifted his eyes, they locked with Frodo's half lidden blue orbs. "Ah, Frodo, I am sorry. Just one more time. You are doing well," he promised.  
  
Frodo shook his head. " I cannot bear...it," he voiced through gritted teeth.  
  
The healer's heart went out to the Ring-bearer, but he had to stop the bleeding to save his patients leg as well as his life. He grabbed a drinking cup, poured some warmed water into it as well as adding a few herbs. Then he handed it to Sam to administer it to Frodo. "Sam, get him to drink all of this. It will help with the pain and calm him down a bit."  
  
Sam received the cup, hoping his master would not refuse and throw it back at him. He gently raised his master's head, pushing the cup to his lips as he softly coaxed Frodo into taking the medicinal tea. Frodo was so thirsty, he did not care what the liquid tasted like as it passed his lips, draining the entire cup. Very quickly, the medication took effect. Merry felt Frodo's hand lax in his, glassy eyes staring back at him. Frodo then turned back to Sam.  
  
Aragorn could wait no longer, once again the smell of burning flesh permeating the air.  
  
There was barely a twinge of resistance from Frodo as the herbs held him suspended in a dream like state. Somehow he knew whatwas happening to him as the heat of the blade cinged his skin, but his senses were dulled-he felt no pain. Even though his eyes were not focusing, he could see Sam, a blurry image of Sam conversing to someone over his head. His head was too heavy for him to move it, that he just let his eyes roam wherever. That was when he caught a glimpse of something silver just beyond the bushes. He tried to squint to focus his eyes, but the attempt just made the image blurrier. He then closed his eyes and opened them again to see if that would help, but the silver thing disappeared.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, Mr. Frodo? What are you looking at?" Sam asked, looking in the direction his master seemed so intent on.  
  
"Silver glass," he mumbled.  
  
All this time, Legolas had been preoccupied with helping Aragorn, that he almost did not hear Frodo's response. He looked up to stare at Sam. "What did he say?"  
  
"Somethin' about silver and glass, I think. He is pretty out of it since takin' Strider's brew."  
  
"I resent that remark, Master Gamgee," he smiled, "It was tea." Aragorn leaned over Frodo checking his patients pulse at his neck. Satisfied with the strong steady beat, he finally unfastened the makeshift tourniquet after he had bandaged the leg. Then he monitored the blood staining the bandages. When the bandages did not become soaked with blood, he handed the belt back to Merry. "Frodo, how are you feeling?"  
  
Frodo's eyes settled on the familiar voice. Aragorn was peering at him. He pondered a few moments before answering. "No pain. Some...how I knew you would find some way to feed me one of your concoctions...again," he breathed smiling up at the Ranger.  
  
"You have done well. Rest now, and stop fighting the herbs," Aragorn coaxed, wiping Frodo's brow.  
  
Frodo nodded and slowly let his heavy lids close, succumbing to Aragorn's powerful tea.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
***tbc*** 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed below. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. 

Calenor: thanks for reviewing, more coming up. Iorheal: no Frodo is not dying. I would not do that. It was meant as a metaphor. Breon Briarwood: Frodo will get the comfort he needs. A little in this chapter. LilyBaggins: More story coming as well. Strega: I am glad I got your attention. I have had lots of help with characterizations: I owe my thanks to Budgielover. FrodoBaggins87: Okay, the silver creature as I have most of the reviewers stumped. He will help Frodo, that is all I will say. ShireBaggins: Yes, the farmers left the traps for the silver people, and captured a Hobbit instead. The most important one, but they do not find out _YET._ As for cauterizing his wound, that seemed to be the only thing I could think of. My computer is very slow and would have taken a looooooooooooooooooooooong time to find out other Medici nary applications in the middle ages. So, I improvised. What were the other stories with cauterized wounds? Shirebound: I am glad you like the story so far. I hope I keep intriguing you.

Sorry for the long delay in between chapters, so without further adieu, let's continue the tale.

Blood and burnt skin was scraped off to reveal a well maintained blade as Legolas cleaned his pearl-handled knife by the campfire. It had just been used to cauterize Frodo's leg wound. The Elf observed the hobbits, seeming to always care for their own in times of great peril. The Ringbearer was lying on the ground underneath a pile of blankets. Pippin was absentmindedly stroking Frodo's unruly locks; all that could be seen of him was the top of his dark curly head peeking out and one of his hands being held firmly by Merry. Frodo's leg had been stabilized with two makeshift splints from branches that Gimli had chopped with his ax, tied to his leg with cloth that Sam had provided by ripping the seams out of one his shirts. Then Sam set to making somewhat of a meager meal by hobbit standards of potatoes and meat in some broth. Legolas had noticed that Merry had not wandered far from Frodo's side since the Ringbearer had succumbed to Aragorn's herbal tea. He could not forget the urgent look he had had on his face as he told what occurred leading up to Frodo's accident. Merry kept explaining to the Elf that he did not know he had set off another trap until it was too late. That he had cursed his height that he could not reach a branch to climb up after his cousin to render aide. The undeniable angered glances towards the farmers as they revealed they were the ones who set the trap, feeling the little one's frustration as he was being restrained by Aragorn. He respected Merry for sticking up for his kinsman, not letting size get in his way. Legolas' eyes then traveled towards Gandalf leaving Boromir to guard the farmers.

Gandalf approached Aragorn after he had finished binding Frodo's leg. Speaking softly to Aragorn he asked, "How is he?"

"He managed to drink the tea. It will help him sleep and with the pain," he frowned as he spoke to his confidant. 

Gandalf took in the information, realizing there was something else worrying Aragorn. At this, he prodded the Ranger, "What else, Aragorn?"

With a deep sigh, looking around muttering under his breath not to alarm the other hobbits, he revealed a troubling thought, "Frodo's wound was deep. I had a hard time stopping the bleeding the first time I had tried to cauterize it. That is why I had to attempt a second time. I am still not satisfied that it has stopped. He will need to keep the leg immobilized. He has a slight fever, which is to be expected."

Gandalf sensed a but coming and raised his eyebrows for the Ranger to continue. 

"I heard him say the strangest thing. I think it is due to delirium, but when I asked him how he had felt, he seemed to be talking plainly to me."

"What is it that has you concerned, Aragorn?" Gandalf asked with reservation.

"Frodo was talking about Silver glass. I would not be bothered by it, but I seemed to remember that phrase in a poem from a long time ago. Sam had been concerned by it as well. He brought it to my attention that Frodo was staring intently at the bushes over there," Aragorn explained gesturing with his now cleaned hands at the bushes outlining the camp. He then continued thinking hard as his eyebrows knitted together, "Merry had said Frodo was releasing someone or something from the net. When the creature fell, Merry noticed that the it had silver colored hair, with a shiny face. That was all he saw before the creature ran into the forest."

"Hmm, interesting," Gandalf whispered leaning on his staff for support, closing his eyes searching his memory as to what Frodo was talking about as well as to the identity of this creature. After a moment, Gandalf spoke, "Let us talk to these farmers," and whirled about, the folds of his robe causing dust to rise as smoke billows from a fire. 

Legolas observed Gandalf, and without invitation stood by the campfire offering protection, though Gimli jumped up from his position, his shoes clunking loudly as he followed the trail of the dissipating dust. All the hobbits except for one, noticed the processional towards the farmers. Pippin reframed from stroking Frodo's hair, all attention on the small gathering taking place. Sam stood quietly by Bill, who was within hearing distance, pretending to check the fastenings on the packs that the pony was carrying, being extra quiet to overhear any conversations.

Larson and Bartholomew were sitting cross legged, but rose from the forest floor as Gandalf and Aragorn pounded the ground towards them. Larson, tight lipped, crossed his huge arms in front of his chest as if he was thwarting an arrow from piercing him. He recognized the attire of the Rangers. He wondered what he was doing way out here associated with these other characters. He had also seen the crest upon the warrior to be Gondorian. It was no concern of his, he figured they would be on their way, seeing as how they treated their friend's injury. 

Aragorn stopped just short of rubbing noses with Larson. Eyes seemingly piercing the other like daggers. The Ranger of the North had taken over what once was the healer, secondary to even the future heir of Gondor. The tension that was building between these two parties was conveniently broken by Gandalf. He did not have time to deal with this situation, they needed to tend to Frodo and continue their journey.

"I hope the sport of capturing and inflicting pain on an innocent lad was satisfied today. You nearly killed him!" Gandalf bellowed out tightening his grip on his staff, not at all meaning to lose his temper. That is what he was trying to prevent Aragorn from doing when he had intervened. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder as his anger only just started to subside. He did not know the Istari could feel this way towards another life force. His peripheral vision caught Gimli in battle stance, ax in hand. Boromir also had hold of his hilt, ready for any altercation. Gandalf the Grey managed a nod towards Aragorn relaxing his grip on his staff, backing away as he did.

Aragorn then spoke to the farmers responsible for Frodo's injuries, glancing back at the hobbits, whom he noticed had taken up interesting positions. "The one you had cornered this afternoon," he said pointing to Merry who raised his head at the mention of the attack, glaring at them wearily, "he said that there was something else in those traps you set. You had also mentioned something about Orcs?" he raised his eyebrows peering at both of the farmers expecting some sort of rebuttal. After a moment had passed, Aragorn opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the smaller man.

"I am Bartho…" he began to say, but caught an elbow in his chest. Larson turned on him hoping he would take the hint to shut his mouth. Bartholomew, though, wanted to clear his conscious. He glowered at Larson as he continued. "Like I was saying, I am Bartholomew. This here is Larson," he said.

"I can speak for meself!" Larson exclaimed, making his opinion known he did want his business being told to strangers.

"Well, then, speak! I for one would like to hear what you have to say about the traps and these rag tagged band of Orcs," Aragorn huffed, becoming quite impatient.

"We are just poor farmers. Rumors of the lands turning dark again are spreading like wildfires. People take advantage of scared folk, like us," Bart spat out quickly, not wanting to anger the Ranger further. "These Orcs came from no where, demanding we give them more than half our crops or they would burn our homes to the ground. Some of us men have families to feed. We were a breakin' our backs. We told the leader that half the men were sick, starving. He laughed at us, then made us a deal," Bart sputtered, looking from the wizard to the ranger with hopes that they would have pity on them for what they had done out of necessity. 

"Please, continue sir," Gandalf spoke more softly this time, with a slight crook to his mouth.

"Um, well, the leader came to us with this deal. He said he had heard of these creatures that could heal anyone. He wanted us to capture one and bring it to him. If we did, then he would go away and leave us alone. Larson and I agreed and built the traps," he said guiltily. Even Larson was embarrassed at his misdeeds looking down at his boots than staring into the Rangers eyes or even the little people. "We are truly sorry. We were desperate. We did not mean… We were only trying to save our families, just got out of hand," Bart finished, the last part barely heard as he slowly lowered his head in shame. 

Legolas had been keeping an eye on the camp as well as his sharp hearing in tune to the conversations, when his keen smell picked up on something in the distance. It was barely there, but making its way towards the campsite, probably within the hour. A small gust of wind blew his braids away from his face as he followed the scent to the edge of the campsite, gracefully climbing the rocks forming the small waterfall. When he finally reached the top, he spied the dark clouds off in the distance, just passing the first crest of mountains. Leaping off his perch, Legolas made his way back to the center of the campsite to inform Aragorn they needed to move on. 

Frodo approached the top of Mt. Doom. It knew the journey was over. All the Ringbearer had to do was cast it into the fire. The hobbit kept ignoring its whispers of promises, closing in around him as the Eye searched it out and the one who carried it. It had never known a will as strong as this one. It had this one trick yet to play out. If the Ringbearer would not succumb to its song, then it would choke the one who carried it. The chain grew shorter around Frodo's throat, slowly constricting the airflow. The weary hobbit grasped at the shrinking chain, looking for Sam. As he turned on his heel, he plunged down into a pit of up righted spikes, piercing his leg. 

Gasping for air, Frodo's eyes snapped open, the pain in his leg doubling. Pippin's eyes grew wide, trying to calm his cousin. "It's all right, Frodo. You are safe," convincing himself that it was. 

"Frodo?" Merry questioned as he observed his cousin's pained face. "What is it?"

Trying to regain his breath, he licked his dry lips and breathed out, "Leg."

Merry bent over his cousin's leg, "Is it stiff?" he asked as he slid his hand under the cover. He retrieved his hand quickly when he felt something wet, recognizing it he called out. "Strider!" came the shrill voice of Merry breaking the silence that had engulfed the Fellowship as they heard the farmer's confession. 

Both Aragorn and Gandalf quickly turned to the hobbit screaming out. Of what they could make out in the short distance, Merry still had hold of Frodo's hand, but he seemed to be trying to hold his cousin still more than consoling him. Even Pippin was leaning closer to him, stroking the dark curls. Sam burst onto the scene, landing hard on his knees next to Frodo taking a hand into his, trying to figure out what was going on. In three long strides, Strider was at Merry's side, kneeling down by Frodo's injured leg. 

"What happened?" Aragorn asked as he observed a pale Ringbearer sweating profusely, guiding his fingers to the pulse point, watching Frodo's chest rise and fall rapidly. 

"I heard him moaning a little. I asked him if he wanted anything. He told me that his leg hurt. So, I put my hand under the covers to see if I could reposition his leg and I found this," Merry said holding up his right hand smeared with a little blood. 

A weak moan escaped Frodo's lips as Aragorn gently folded the covers back revealing the immobilized leg. Bright red blood had stained the outer most layer of bandages on the inside of the leg. What was most alarming was that the injured limb had swelled so much that the makeshift splint was too tight around the leg, squeezing the wound. The same area that he was afraid of reopening. Frodo looked up at Strider with those big cornflower blue eyes, brows knitting together; afraid to ask what was wrong. Aragorn crooked a smile, "'Tis all right, Frodo," he replied laying a calming hand upon the Ringbearer's chest. 

Frodo nodded and took a deep breath, blowing it out between pursed lips. "My leg, it does not feel right," he finally spoke looking at the people he loved surrounding him. How could he tell them the terrible pain he felt. The wheel of fire building up in his mind until it seemed as if it were going to explode. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried not to succumb to the continued throbbing or the promise if he would just put on the Ring the pain would go away. 

"What can I do, Strider?" Sam asked as he mopped the sweat off Frodo's brow, handing the soaked cloth to Pippin to continue the task. 

"His leg has swollen quite considerably and the wood is constricting his leg causing him pain. We can relieve the pressure by loosening the strips of cloth. Sam, you can start on the one by his ankle while I work the one in the middle and top," Aragorn asked him starting to untie the knots holding the splints in place. As each piece of cloth was untied, the Ranger did not notice Frodo's hand wringing inside of Merry's palm. Merry was trying to hold onto the squirming appendage, reassuring Frodo they were almost done. Pippin was also trying to make himself useful, whispering into his cousin's ear and wiping his sweaty forehead. 

The pain was getting unbearable, and Frodo was finding it hard to block out the Eye until it just about consumed him. Breaking free of Merry's grip, Frodo subconsciously brought his hand into his shirt fishing for the piece of gold hung about his neck. He was going to make the pain go away on his terms, not by Aragorn unraveling a bit of cloth. He felt the cold metal, outlining it with the tip of his index finger. _Put me on. _It whispered in his mind. _The pain, oh the pain. You can feel it. I can take it away. You can go back home. _His finger trembled, something was holding it back. His head shook from side to side as a small argument was taking place inside his mind. _All is not lost, Ringbearer. _Another voice. Not the Ring's._ Look for the Silver…_

"Frodo! No!" Sam tore at his master's shirt, ripping off a few buttons, as he extrapolated the hand from around the Ring. The Ring lay in plain site, upon the silky white chest of the hobbit. Sam covered Frodo's chest and the Ring quickly before anyone of the Big People saw, especially Boromir. 

Frodo snapped open his eyes as he was brought back to reality. Now, both his hands had been captured and held out above his head. Aragorn leaned over him, wiping stray curls from his forehead, a look of concern etched on his face. "Frodo, what were you doing?" Aragorn asked a little too harsh. 

"What do you mean?" he managed a choking whisper. 

"Do you not know?" Aragorn asked. The Ringbearer shook his head in confusion, which made him slightly dizzy. The Ranger bent in a little closer, "you almost put the Ring on. If it were not for Sam…I would hate to think what would have happened." 

A frightened look came over Frodo as he realized that the voices in his head were real. But the other one. It sounded like it wanted to help him. To stop him. He could not think anymore. "Water, please?" 

Aragorn released Frodo's hands and nodded at Merry to bring him the water skin. 

Sam poured the water into a cup and put it to Frodo's lips, lifting him up slightly so that he could drink. A few drops trickled down his chin, as he gulped the refreshing liquid. After a minute Frodo pulled away, signaling that he had enough and was gently guided back down to the ground. 

From where the farmers stood, Larson could see what had taken place. The little injured fellow was in pain, and while his friends restrained him, a little piece of gold fell into view, seeming to wink at the man. The wind had picked up a little, rustling leaves just enough that their veins scratched along the dusty ground. Ghostly words traveled with the breeze, _Take Me. _

Larson stood transfixed and only the constant prodding by his friend brought him out of his reverie. "LARSON!" Bart yelled into the tall man's ear. He had yelled so loud that all eyes were looking in their direction. 

Annoyed, Larson responded, "What?"

"Well, what took you so long to answer?" Bart asked innocently.

"Never you mind," he scolded as if Bart was his son rather than his friend. "We need to get going. Them crops will not bring themselves in. We're already in trouble with them Orcs. They'll be headed back here by the next evening'. Hey! You with the pointy hat!" Larson hollered out to Gandalf.

Gandalf was halfway to Frodo when the farmer called out. He turned around, staff in his left hand, with his right hand sitting on his hip. "Yes?" 

"Will you be needing us? We need to get back to our crops!"

At the same moment, Aragorn had been approached by Legolas. The Elf told him what he had seen from afar and that it would be in their best interest to find more substantial shelter, especially for the Ringbearer. 

"We will be needing your help Master Larson," Aragorn informed him.

"How's that?" the brute of a man asked.

"I have just been informed that there is a storm approaching and we need to be sure our injured friend is kept warm and dry. You do have such accommodations?" Aragorn insisted, rather than asked. 

Larson did not want these people here, but something tugged at the back of his mind. He thought quickly. If he could not produce one of these Silver creatures for the Orcs, maybe the injured one's gold around his neck would be worth negotiating for. The halfling, he remembered the Elf calling the little people that, maybe he would not survive his ordeal. He would die and then he could remove the gold from around his neck when his friends were not looking. 

"Yes, I think we could put you and your friends up for the night. It is the least we could do for our misdeeds." Larson said surprising the Fellowship and Bart at his change of heart.

Tbc.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters; they belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not make any money or profit from these stories. They are purely entertainment. 

All Creatures Great and Small

Chapter 7

The trap door had been concealed for many years before it was discovered. It was just an accident really. The inhabitant's children had unknowingly found it when one of their own kin had gotten lost during a festival. Bright lights lit up the valley as onlookers ahhed and ooohed at the many different patterns of color in the sky: Red, Blue, Yellow…all breathtaking in their own way. On one of these occasions the children took advantage of their parents attention to the sky instead of on them. Few had heard of the strange tale of beings coming out of the mountains. Some say that there was a bewitching woman, beauty like no other and few observed a fiery mountain. Legend told that these beings came from another world and if viewed upon would never be seen again losing their silver color, becoming pale and having to use their mouths to talk.

The children would always play dare, a game in which the one who had been dared prove their courage by going to the area where these beings had been seen and sit there the whole night. A boy had taken the dare this night, not afraid of the tales. His grandmother had told him that it was all nonsense. That she had once spent the night on the lonely mountain and nothing ever happened to her, but when she had awakened the next morning, she held a curiously large leaf in hands. She had never seen it before for there did not exist a tree in the forest that this leaf would have come from. His grandmother saved the leaf until the day she had died, leaving it to her grandson. When he retold the story his friends at the festival, they shunned him telling him that his grandmother was an old fool. To prove his friends wrong, the child started to climb up the hill, the leaves made it hard for him to maintain footing and found himself slipping at times. Once he made it to the top of the hill, he sat down to catch his breath, signaling to his friends below that he had made it. The boy felt a rumble beneath him, calling frantically to his friends what was happening. Before he knew what was going on, the ground gave way and in he fell. The fabled trap door was real. And it had closed on him. The frightened child stayed where he was, thanking his maker that he was not hurt. He peered around him to see where he was. He noticed he was in some type of cave, realizing that he was not alone. There was a being lying on the ground his face turned up towards the boy. When the boy had fallen through the trap door, dust and small rocks had rolled down on top the being causing some injuries. As scared as this boy was, a great calling of courage enveloped him and he found himself drawing closer to the injured being. As the boy lowered himself down to the next level he noticed a silvery substance along the walls

The boy noticed that beneath the bushy red eyebrows, the man's eyes were closed. There was blood coming from the forehead where he had been hit when the rock slide occurred. Timidly, the boy put out his hand and held it to the man's forehead. Slowly, a light came forth from the child's hand, burning brightly and warmly. Soon the blood flow stopped, then disappeared altogether. The child seemed to be worn out. His breathing erratic, sweat beading upon his brow. 

Upon opening his eyes, the stranger that the boy saved looked dumbfounded at the child above his head. He slowly got up, feeling for the blood that should have been there a moment ago. Looking at the boy the stranger said, "What? How?"

The child smiled kindly at him and touched the man's red beard. Before anything else happened, there was a great light and some older men approaching the boy. The boy looked up and smiled. He leapt into their arms and was carried away. Before the strangers left, the man on the ground heard a voice inside his head. _Thank you. _ Then the light disappeared. The man sitting on the ground, stunned by what just happened was brought to his senses when someone called out his name, "Balin! Cousin Balin!" the young dwarf ran up to his cousin panting. He had seen the rock fall from a short distance not ever noticing the silver creature that blended in with the rocks, coming to his cousin's rescue as quick as he could. "Are you all right?" the young dwarf asked.

With a great grunt, Balin got to his feet, shook off the small pebbles of rock and nodded. "Yes, Gimli, I am fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me. Now, where's my ax? This Mithril will not get mined on its own," he bellowed and took his cousin by his shoulder and led him from the site where the young boy and his family had disappeared, never to return to that spot again. 

~~~*****~~~~~******~~~~~*****~~~~~

The gentle swaying of the litter had finally rocked Frodo to sleep. When Legolas had explained to Aragorn the approaching rain storm, the hobbits quickly found two branches that were small enough to wrap a bedroll around, but thick enough to support the weight of the Ringbearer. Aragorn offered another one of his potions to make the trip a little easier on him, but Frodo refused the medicinal tea. As the Ranger carried the Ringbearer from his bedroll to the awaiting stretcher, he felt a hand tighten around his neck, fingernails digging into his skin. He looked down to see the same painful look cross Frodo's face after he was stabbed at Weathertop. 

"Ah, I am sorry Frodo," he said wincing, ignoring his own pain as Frodo's nails penetrated deeper, sweat beading on his forehead. Aragorn placed Frodo on the litter, while Sam held tightly onto Frodo's hand until the muscle spasm subsided. Positioning the injured leg, the Ranger checked for any further bleeding, satisfied that the bandages were holding. He then pushed a cup of medicinal tea to Frodo's lips as Sam helped him to sit up, which he drank without putting up a fuss. Before Aragorn got to his feet, he felt a hand tug at his wrist. It was Frodo's.

"Do you trust them?" he asked, his injured hand trembling upon Aragorn's wrist. He did not have a good feeling about the pair, especially the larger man. Frodo had realized that the farmer changed his mind awfully fast and wondered why Gandalf did not question the sudden change of heart. 

"We need shelter. I promise no further harm will come to you. I told you I would protect you and I will. Now," he continued brushing a sweaty curl away from Frodo's eyes, " we will be leaving in a moment and I want you to relax. You keep fighting my herbs or have you just gotten used to them by now?" Aragorn smiled wryly.

Lying back, a small sigh escaping his lips, Frodo replied, "never."

~~~~~******~~~~~*****~~~~~******~~~~~*****

The small encampment came into view as the darkened storm clouds threatened to let loose their watery substance. Lightning filling the sky, as the rumble roared warning the inhabitants that it was only a few miles away. A small robust woman maybe of forty years appeared in the doorway wearing an apron, wiping her hands on it as the two farmers approached, quickening their pace towards the one building that smoke was billowing from, to inform their people that they had guests and one of them was injured. Larson was speaking to her as the Fellowship, led by Gandalf, greeted them with judgmental eyes. 

"Good day my good lady," Gandalf spoke bowing his head before continuing. "We are hoping that your community would be so kind as to make some accommodations for one of our injured?" he stated gesturing towards Gimli and the three hobbits holding the litter carrying Frodo.

Sam, Merry, and Pippin, still holding the stretcher, cast eyes upon the woman as they listened to Bartholomew retell the story once more. It seemed the more of the story was told, the bigger her eyes became looking from the Fellowship to Larson back to Bartholomew again. She was obviously upset with Larson when Bartholomew explained about the traps and ending up injuring one of the little people. "Well, bring them in you credent! Don't leave them out there when rain be comin'. What do you want to do, kill 'im off?" the woman reprimanded, shaking her finger in Larson's face. Then she turned around and immediately spoke to Gandalf, "I am sorry, sire, for my son's behavior. He just had our safety in his best interest. Protectin' us and all," she apologized, "he could be a big oaf sometimes." The woman's calloused left hand came up to her face as she haphazardly tried tucking her flyaway golden gray flecked hair behind her ears. Smudges of soot mingled with sweat decorated her wrinkled face under one eye crossing her cheek. She looked like she had been in a fight with flue powder and it won. Noticing Gandalf gazing at her disheveled look, she offered, "Please dant mind me, been fighten with the cooking pot and not been able to clean meself up yet. Not time for supper yet mind you. Didn expect company neither." 

"No, my dear lady. I expect not. But thank you for your kindness," Gandalf replied and stepped aside as Gimli and the hobbits continued forward stepping over the threshold entering the warm building. Boromir and Legolas had stepped inside the doorway as well and decided to wait there. Looks were deceiving as the little building seemed bigger once inside. The hearth was built in the center of the building, radiating warmth throughout. It was set high, bricks built up from the floor creating an open pit. A rod with a hook on it protruded from one of the bricks holding an iron pot in the center of the fire. Sam's expert nose caught a whiff of roasting chicken. _If I could just add my herbs to that! _he said to himself reminiscing the last time he had actually had any, his stomach grumbling. There were two long tables along each side of the walls illuminated by candles that were standing on in as their wax held them in place. Sconces also lit the walls, providing light even in the darkened corners. Merry and Pippin, at the head of the litter, continued to follow the woman to a drapery where she pulled back an edge to reveal a small alcove. She held it aside for them to enter and they stopped once everyone was inside. The woman then came around from behind, clearing off a cot signaling them to lay Frodo onto it. Aragorn had led up the rear, coming along side the litter to transfer Frodo to the awaiting cot. The Ringbearer remained asleep as Aragorn carefully lifted him, then laying him gently down supporting his injured leg. 

"Oh, he is so small, like a child?" the woman cried, as she took in the full height and condition of Frodo once he was lain down. "How could…" she trailed off as she left the room and quickly returned with a small bowl of cool water. "I am Be'than," she introduced herself, wringing out a cloth then wiping Frodo's brow. "And his name?" she inquired of the person she was tending.

Merry spoke up, "he is our cousin, Frodo. I am Merry and this is our other cousin, Pippin," Merry pointed to Pippin who was rolling up the litter, standing it on end in a corner. 

"And you are?" she asked of Sam who was trying to take over tending to his master by covering him up with one of the blankets he found at the end of the cot, moving his way to the head of the bed. "Samwise, ma'am. His gardner," he added.

Be'than nodded her head and then looked to Aragorn. Gimli had removed himself from the room making his way back to Boromir and Legolas leaving Frodo in good hands. She had noticed that an Elf and Dwarf traveled with the company. Her coat of arms was not that good, but she had figured the warrior was Gondorian. But the gentleman standing in front of her was a mystery as well as the little people. She had heard rumors from some of her folk before leaving for harvest, keeping the information to herself. Her son had enough trouble keeping the Orcs at bay and now this. "You sir?" speaking to Aragorn.

Aragorn had kneeled beside the cot at Frodo's leg, inspecting it. He had heard the woman, but ignored her question for the time being. "Sam, place your lips on Frodo's forehead and tell me if it is hot or just warm?" 

Sam looked at Strider, but did as he was told. He remembered his mum doing the same when his baby sister took ill. He asked her why she was always kissing her and that she may get sick too. She had told him that was how she could tell if she still had a fever. Sam leaned down and ever so lightly pressed his lips to his master's forehead. Sam jerked back quickly like he had touched an iron. 

Aragorn did not need Sam to tell him what he already knew by his reaction. He took one leaf out of his small leather pouch tied to his belt. He whispered into his hand, tearing it in half. He then did something he had never done before. He took that leaf, and with the other hand gently parted the Ringbearer's lips, placing the torn leaf under Frodo's tongue. He noticed the hobbits staring at him. They knew Aragorn to always put the Athelas in a bowl of steaming water to bathe wounds or for a fever, but never to use it directly. "It will work quickly this way, without having to wake him. His fever must come down."

"You are a healer?" Be'than voiced hoping that her question would be answered this time.

"Yes, I am a healer. My name is Aragorn," he told her, hoping that she did not recognize the name. "I also assure you that these gentlemen are not children. They may seem small, but have the bravery of the biggest men. They are called Hobbits, or halflings," Aragorn nodded to Merry, Pippin, Sam and even the unconscious Frodo.

Be'than seemed to remember tales from her childhood of far away lands settled by little people who disappeared when big folk came around, who would play tricks or knock out strangers with rocks thrown from great distances, but she decided these could not be the same creatures as told in those tales. 

Merry was about to say something, but caught a cautionary eye from Gandalf, who had just appeared in the doorway. 

"Glad to meet you all. Please tell me of what you need. We have some healin' herbs drying next door. Now, if would excuse me, I am sure you all are hungry. I have some stew on. This one will need all of his strength if he's to get better," she said leaving the cloth in the bowl exiting the room, now noticing Gandalf standing there.

"Merry," Gandalf whispered, "Please do not reveal yourselves or our mission to them. And Pippin?"

"I was just going to tell her what she had probably heard was never true. We had slingshots!" Pippin boasted, but yelped when he felt a foot stamp onto his.

"How is Frodo doing, Strider? He hasn't woken up since you gave him that drink. And now you slip him something under his tongue," Sam observed not liking that Frodo had been out completely for a couple of hours. It was not unusual for his master to sleep for long periods of time, but the pain he had been in, with a fever and not felt it when Strider moved him did not bode with him well. 

"Sam, he will recover. I just gave him a stronger brew," Aragorn explained. "He will wake soon enough and I am sure he will be himself in no time. We just need to keep an eye on his fever and this leg. Tell me if it starts to bleed again, or if it starts swelling like before. Also," he lowered his voice further, "do not reveal It to no one. If you have to wipe his chest down, do it when there is no one in here. It knows there are those here who may be able to serve It's purpose."

The hobbits nodded understanding, especially Sam. He knew all to well the looks Frodo had been getting from one of their own. 

~~~~~******~~~~~~*******

"I hope you know what you are doing, Larson. Those Orcs will be back on the morrow's eve. You do not have what they want. What are we going to do?" the little man asked quietly. "Your mum didn't know what you told them? What you promised them, do she?"

Larson shook his head. After the folks carried their injured into the common building, he went to one of the tents to tell what one of them carried. "The injured one is wearing a gold ring. I was thinking we could pay them with that."

Intrigued, the little man asked, "A gold ring? Tell me more. Did it have writing on it?" turning around, his black hair hanging loosely about his face framing it.

"It had no writing, but it is pretty. It looks valuable," Larson recalled fondly the first time he had seen it. 

"Well," I am the healer here. Maybe I should just take a look at this injured halfling?" he sneered taking a drink of an amber liquid, tossing the empty cup onto his cot, donning a black cape. Larson lifted the tent flaps, both exiting walking towards the common building.

Tbc.

**__**

Calenor: thanks. 

**__**

FrodoBaggins87: we will soon find out if the silver creature will heal him.

**__**

Heartofahobbit: Thank you and I never thought of it as Sauron as much as the Ring had its own identity. Or that it was not Frodo willing himself from the pain. 

**__**

Elwen: Here is more, but you have already read it on LJ.

**__**

Budgielover: I will really try and tug at your heartstrings, truly!!!!!


	8. Chapter 8

Calenor: You will have to wait and see what awaits poor Frodo and the Fellowship.  
  
Breon Briarwood: Trouble is indeed coming. Stay tuned.  
  
Heartofahobbit and Frodobaggins87: Thanks for reviewing. Here is the next chapter. Allies? Let me see.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.  
  
All Creatures Great and Small  
  
Chapter 8  
  
As dusk approached, long shadows settled over the mountains, bringing a chill to the air. The figure hid well among the shadows. Making no noise at all as he stealthily made his way from tent to tent until he reached his destination. He knew the men inside were cruel, but there was one who showed compassion. The small one was different. He sensed it the moment they made eye contact. Hope, despair, and urgency surrounded the small ones thoughts. He felt he had to be somewhere, but helping the trapped being was more important to him. Those big blue eyes held depths of sorrow and a forboding future.   
  
He remembered falling, being free of the net, running as fast as he could. Then, he felt it, as if he was the one who had been stabbed. Blinding piercing pain was what he felt from the little one. Not regret for helping, just concern for others. The being decided at that moment he would run and get help. But who would come? Who would believe him? They would tell him it was just his imagination, that it was just a fairy tale, told to children to scare them away from the mountains. He went anyway, curiosity getting the best of him.  
  
Then he remembered something his Gamma said. "If ever in trouble, the Others will always know. Just concentrate. Help will come. Your thoughts will guide them, even across great distances."   
  
So, that is what he did as he followed the little one to the camp, concealed by the trees and bushes. He concentrated as best he could, pouring his thoughts out, images of what had happened. Why had he not thought of it before was beyond him. There he stayed in the shadows. For how long, he could not tell. He did not even know if his plan had worked. As he contemplated his next move, he felt a hand touch his shoulder, spinning around his eyes grew wide.  
  
Be'than stirred the pot until she felt ready the meal was ready to eat. She had several new mouths to feed. She knew the injured one would definitely need to eat. She also knew she had to take care of her own. Her mind flew with thoughts as she figured out what she needed to do. She would just have to go down to the storage and get out the salted pork. There was more than enough to go around, even with these new strangers to feed.   
  
Gandalf sat on the bench protruding from one of the tables in the common room, chewing on his pipe stem. Not really smoking on it. He found comfort in it as he thought hard about the creature whom Frodo happened upon. He needed to confirm his suspicions, but he had a very good idea of what it was. If only he had brought the book with him from Rivendell, he could have referred to it. Rivendell's history was kept in a journal, excerpts from Lord Elrond's personal memoirs. It would have definitely been in there, Gandalf thought to himself. So deep into his thoughts he did not hear the lady speaking to him, but felt it when she snapped a towel at his leg.  
  
"Oh, beg me pardon, a fly," she mused finally getting the old man's attention. "Do you mind helpin' here. Not 'nough hands ta carry all these," she added referring to the bowls that had been laden with the stew.   
  
"Yes, dear lady. You will make some very hungry hobbits very happy, and full I should hope," Gandalf replied as he loaded his arm up with two bowls, carrying his staff with the empty hand.   
  
Be'than and Gandalf entered the room with the food hand in hand and at once the chattering that could be heard from outside the curtain stopped as soon as the smell wafted past the hobbits' noses.   
  
"Sam, here is yours and Frodo's. Merry and Pippin, the lady has yours," Gandalf said transferring the hot bowls to Sam's hands when he reached out for them.  
  
"You are awake enough to eat this stew, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked his master, helping Frodo sit up by placing a couple bedrolls behind his back.  
  
"There you go, Frodo. I bet that feels better," Pippin added as he helped cushion the injured leg. Frodo forgot about his hand, and as he put some pressure on it to push himself up, he moaned loudly enough to alarm Be'than.  
  
"Oh, are you all right, Um..." she asked unsure of how to address the little fellow.  
  
Frodo noticed the hesitation in the woman's voice. "Please," he winced, " call me Frodo. Frodo Baggins at your service," he managed, bowing his head as best he could.  
  
"Sir, you need not bow to me?" Be'than stated, smiling, her lips stretching over her teeth, diminshing her wrinkles.  
  
Frodo smiled back, finally settled back onto the bedrolls. Sam placed the bowl on Frodo's lap resting its edge against the bandaged hand for support. Then putting the spoon into his master's right hand, Frodo began to feed himself, everyone else following suit Sam being the last to start. It was difficult at first, with balancing the bowl on his lap, but Frodo managed a couple of spoonfuls before he became full.   
  
Be'than watched Frodo as he set his spoon aside, indicating to Sam that he was full and to take the bowl. "Now, sir," addressing Frodo, "you must eat if you are ta heal properly," she said taking the bowl before Sam could reach it. She filled the spoon with some of the stew and put it up to Frodo's lips. Frodo looked for help from Sam and even his cousins, but they had fixed their eyes on their bowls of stew as if it was the last meal they were going to have. Feeling too drained to attempt a power struggle, Frodo slumped his shoulders in defeat and opened his mouth to the hovering spoon.  
  
"Thank you kindly for cooperatin', sir. You'll feel much better for it, believe me," she told Frodo as he accepted another spoonful from this overly protective mother hen. He silently decided that she was actually worse than Sam.  
  
Sam guiltily looked at Gandalf and unexpectedly received a wink.  
  
"Samwise, I think Frodo is in good hands now, and I must see to the others to make sure they eat as well," Gandalf spoke placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder before departing.  
  
"Very good. I must say you did very well," Be'than commented on the empty soup bowl.  
  
Sam turned towards his master noting that his face was rather flush, eyelids drooping, taking deep breaths. "Mr.Frodo?" Sam asked, alarm in his voice.  
  
"Just tired, Sam," Frodo replied trying to catch his breath.  
  
Merry jerked his head up from his bowl to notice a look of concern on their hostess' face. "Is anythin' wrong, Ma'am?"  
  
Be'than wrung her hands in her apron apologizing,"I did not mean to wear the little fellow out."   
  
"Do not worry, ma'am. He's been eating like a bird since we left...Oi! Merry, my soup!" Pippin exclaimed as he had started to explain before he felt a pinch in the arm by his cousin.  
  
"Oh? Where did you leave from?" Be'than asked, feeling a little better about making her charge consume the entire bowl.  
  
Merry scowled at Pippin. Pippin had always talked too much, he could not remember a time when his cousin was quiet except for when he was eating.   
  
"Yes, where did you folks start off from?" a second voice asked as a dark haired man wearing a black cloak that covered him from his shoulders to his knees entered the already crowded room. The man stared intently with his beady dark eyes down his crooked nose. He did not smile as he looked over Be'than's head towards the slumped figure on the cot. Then his eyes wandered to the other three blond haired hobbits who just stared back. Larson hung back in the door frame making him a head taller than the cloaked figure.   
  
After there was still no reply, the man strode over to Frodo, bent down reaching out with his right hand cupping Frodo's chin. Taking his other hand he felt Frodo's forehead. Frodo flinched at the touch as a surge ran through him, his tired eyes looking up into the man's face.  
  
Sam did not like this man touching his master. Just as the thought occurred to him, a familiar voice echoed behind him.  
  
Strider, Ranger of the North, entered the room occupied by the hobbits. What he observed was an unfamiliar man peering into the Ringbearer's face. "Samwise, is there something wrong with Frodo?" his voice soft but commanding.  
  
Aragorn's voice startled both men, interrupting the cloaked man's concentration upon the hobbit. Rolling his eyes with a look of annoyance, the man sighed releasing Frodo's chin, slowly straightening his back to his full height. "The lad seems to have a fever," he said to the Ranger calmly. "I am sorry, I am Hawthorne. I am the healer here."  
  
Aragorn took one look at Frodo's flushed face and knew that infection was setting in. "I thank you for checking him. I can tend to him from here."  
  
"You are trained in healing?" Hawthorne asked.  
  
"Oh,yes," Be'than interrupted. Gave the young sir a leaf for his pain. Stuck it right under his tongue. Nice smell, too."  
  
"Kingsfoil-healing herb of a King," Hawthorne noted, schooling his features well.   
  
"My father taught me," Aragorn said not wanting to reveal too much to these people.  
  
"Well, I did not mean to intrude. I wish to offer my services as healer and any herbs that I may have that could be of help. With war brewing, healing herbs are becoming scarce. We have been blessed with good health and not have had to use much of our stores except for a minor pain of the head," Hawthorne slowly spoke, hanging onto every word.  
  
"Thank you. I would surely like to have a look," he stated watching as Hawthorne again peered down at Frodo's bandaged hand and leg.  
  
"He has suffered much by the hands of one of our own, but..." he said raising his head, eyes locked with Aragorn's,"but he has a strong will and very stubborn if I may add."  
  
Aragorn never broke eye contact as he replied,"You just do not know how right you are."  
  
In his effort to evade the strange man's touch, Frodo's face became contorted, his breathing becoming rapid, body rigid as another cramp claimed his leg.  
  
"Mr.Frodo?" Sam asked worriedly. Aragorn pushed by Hawthorne, breaking physical contact between them, kneeling at Frodo's side. "Breathe, Frodo," Aragorn said trying to coach the Ringbearer through the pain. But Frodo was not listening. With his eyes scrunched closed, he just wanted it to be over soon. He felt a hand grab his injured one up. Then another, much larger hand mopping the sweat from his brow. Stabbing pain flared through his leg, causing him to yell out, struggling against friendly arms holding him down. With his one good hand, Frodo grabbed hold of Aragorn's hair making the Ranger yelp. The Ringbearer gasped as he felt pressure being applied by another large hand on his foot. Before he could open his eyes to protest, the pain started to subside and Frodo began to relax letting go of his breath that he had been holding as well as Aragorn's hair.   
  
Frodo opened his eyes, Sam was the one who had his hand. Since it was bandaged, he could not feel the familiar callouses that coarsed his gardner's palms. But he wanted to know who had grabbed his foot. When he looked down his leg toward his feet, he only saw the man named Hawthorne at the foot. He quirked his eyebrows in confusion. What had happened, who grabbed his foot? He shook his head in disbelief. With his energy spent, Frodo slumped back onto the bedrolls, half lidden eyes finally closing. "Sleep, Mr. Frodo. You will feel better soon," Sam said.   
  
"I know. The voice telling me to..." he whispered as his breathing eased into a familiar rhythm that indicated to Sam that he had fallen asleep.   
  
Hawthorne had obviously heard the comment, but did not linger on it as he spoke, "The lad is definitely in for a rough night. Call upon me if you need assistance," then he abrubtly left the little room followed by Larson.   
  
Be'than got up as well and collected the rest of the empty bowls,"yes, I will be back in a while. Have ta feed the rest of my flock," she said and followed on the heels of her son.   
  
Sam had managed to reposition his master onto the cot, lying him all the way down, tucking the blanket around him. He then pulled up the side chair and took his place by his master's side.   
  
Aragorn shook his head, feeling around to make sure he still had a scalp. Merry and Pippin snickered. Aragorn glared. Sam could not help a little giggle escape his mouth. He looked quickly down into his lap as Aragorn's head snapped around to him.  
  
"Mr. Strider," Sam asked as he felt it safe to talk now,"what voice Mr.Frodo talkin' about? And what did that healer do to his foot?"  
  
"I do not know, Sam. Maybe Gandalf can help with those questions. Merry, Pippin come with me. Sam, I will send Boromir in here to stay with you and Frodo. Do not let anyone else in here, except for the Fellowship," Aragorn cautioned.  
  
When Aragorn stepped out of the room, Gimli inquired first about Frodo. "How is Master Baggins?"   
  
"He is resting, but he has a fever. I am afraid that infection has set in. The only thing we can do now is wait for it to run its course. I am going to look through the herb stores here to see if they have anything for the infection. My supplies are very low," he said, then added "Boromir, I want you to sit with Sam and Frodo now, then we will rotate watches."  
  
"I will take the next watch," Legolas volunteered.   
  
Boromir slumped to the floor in front of the doorway to Frodo's room, never seeing the person walk pass him.  
  
The hooded figure silently entered the room, blocking the only light illuminated by the common room's fire. As the figure approached the cot containing the injured hobbit, they had noticed the little one was very fevered as the light seemed to glisten off his sweating body. The sick hobbit had kicked off his cover exposing his chest. The fire highlighted a gold band hung about the hobbits neck on a finely crafted chain. As the hooded figure was admiring the Ring, the other hobbit sitting at the bedside stirred.  
  
Sam opened his eyes, the sight of a figure looming over Frodo put him into action, but before he could get one syllable out, a sudden urge to sleep came over him. Samwise Gamgee was rendered useless as his unconcious body floundered to the floor.  
  
Only sounds of the crackling wood on the fire was the only noise that could be heard except the harsh breathing coming from the sick hobbit. A long fingered hand slowly reached out towards the Ringbearer's sweaty brow.  
  
Frodo stirred at the light touch. The pain in his leg resurfacing and the fever climbing, Frodo opened his sticky eyes slowly revealing a figure standing over him. The figure placed his cool hand over Frodo's brow again. Frodo's eyes closed, his breathing relaxed.  
  
"My lady, have you seen Hawthorn?" Aragorn asked Be'than as he walked his way back from the storehouse where the herbs were kept.   
  
"No,sir. I have been out to my son's tent speaking with him for the last hour. Maybe he is in his tent?" she suggested.  
  
"No, I have been there. I wanted to ask him about these herbs. I have never seen them before," Aragorn said as held out a green leaf with some purple bulbs.  
  
Be'than peered at them before speaking,"I have never seen them either. Most unusual because I help him organize them sometimes."  
  
Legolas came running out of the door that led to the common room followed by Boromir and Sam. Aragorn stopped talking, running to them halfway.  
  
"Frodo has been taken!" Legolas breathed out.  
  
tbc 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.  
  
FrodoBaggins87 and Pharaohess----maybe your questions will be answered in this chapter.  
  
Breon Briarwood--Shocking!!!I made you pass out.  
  
I hope my readers were not disappointed in Chapter 8. Hopefully Chapter 9 will make up for it.   
  
All Creatures Great and Small  
  
Chapter 9  
  
"Taken?!" Aragorn questioned raising his voice. Concentrating more on Boromir's disheveled look, anger flashing in his eyes. "Where were you? What were you doing when he was taken?" Aragorn accused Boromir, sticking his finger in the Gondorian's face. "You swore an oath to protect him!" he added more quietly but sternly, not wanting his voice to carry.   
  
Sam jumped to Boromir's defense. "He didn't do anythin'. I mean, we were both knocked out. I saw somethin', but before I could get to Mr. Frodo, I...I...I failed him," he stammered, his pleading eyes looking up to Aragorn. Aragorn squeezed the gardner's shoulder encouragingly.  
  
That did not make matters between Boromir and Aragorn any smoother. How could a grown man be knocked unconcious. He could see that a hobbit would not have a chance, not that Sam would not give his life in battle for Frodo, but what could have been used to render a soldier useless? "What exactly happened, Boromir?"   
  
Boromir did not like being questioned of his actions, least not by a Ranger even if he was heir to the throne of Gondor. Just as angered as he was, his voice showed no indication as he spoke calmly,"I was sitting outside Frodo's room. Frodo and Sam were asleep. There was noone else in the common room. I thought I had seen a shadow for the briefest moment in the corner. Believe me if there was anyone there, I...I would have...The next thing I remember was being awakened by Legolas."  
  
Sam made his input wringing his hands together in frustration, "that is what happened to me. One minute I was up about to throttle the stranger, then I woke up on the floor. Mr. Frodo was gone."  
  
Gandalf had joined the group as Boromir explained what had happened to him. He stood there listening with great interest. "Well, now is the time to question anyone else who had been near the common room. To see if someone maybe had the same experience as these two," he concluded pointing his staff to Boromir and Sam.   
  
"I cannot find this healer, Hawthorne. He was not in his tent at the time Frodo disappeared," Aragorn confided in the wizard. "He had invited me to look at his stores of herbs. These were in there," Aragorn said showing the odd purple herb to Gandalf. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"  
  
Gandalf studied the herb. "No, I have not," he concluded. "This healer, Hawthorn, took interest in our Frodo?" he asked. Aragorn looked surprised. "Merry and Pippin told me how he had helped Frodo through some pain last evening?"  
  
"Yes. Very odd. I was going to ask you about it," Aragorn explained pulling the wizard out of earshot. Gandalf shook his head.  
  
"Gather the rest of the Fellowship. We will look for Frodo. Start in the common room. He just cannot have disappeared without a trace," Aragorn gave a slight nod and headed back towards Legolas, who was standing with Boromir and Sam.   
  
There was some commotion coming from around one of the tents. A group had gathered, shouting erupting. Aragorn could not see what all the excitement was about. As the crowd came towards the gathered Fellowship, Aragorn's eyes widened as he finally saw what the crowd had been hiding. In the center, Mr. Larson had hold on an individual half dragging, half carrying it to the middle of the settlement. Larson stood there with a smile on his face as he showed off his capture. Right in front of the Fellowship, stood the elusive 'Silver' creature Merry and Frodo had saved the day before.  
  
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"What is going to happen him?" Merry questioned Aragorn as he returned to the Felloship's camp. After Frodo had been taken, Aragorn thought it more safe for the remaining hobbit's to stay with them instead of in Be'than's room for more than one reason.   
  
"Mr. Larson is still going to give him over to these renegade Orcs. They are supposed to be coming tonight to collect their prize," Aragorn relayed.   
  
"They cannot. Frodo risked his life to save him. We cannot let them do it, Strider!" Merry exclaimed as he tugged onto Aragorn's cloak, suddenly being surrounded by two more sets of small hairy hobbit feet.  
  
As Aragorn looked into each of the hobbit's pleading faces, he told them,"I do not intend letting Mr. Larson carry out this barbaric exchange, but..." he paused as he noticed four more familiar pairs of booted feet stepping beside the hobbits,"our primary concern is finding Frodo and I think our special guest might have some knowledge of where he is. We just need a plan to sneak him away before the Orcs get here."  
  
"I think I may have an idea," Boromir spoke up and a tight circle was formed as the Fellowship listened intently.   
  
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Frodo slowly woke as cool air blew over his uncovered body. He wondered where Sam was. He usually made sure there always a blanket on him. It was so quiet, he figured that Sam was so tired that he had fallen asleep. Sighing, Frodo started searching his waist to see if the blanket might have slid off, but a large hand stopped his hands as a heavy blanket was laid upon him. That same hand found its way to Frodo's forehead. Somehow he knew that the hand did not belong to Aragorn, or anyone else familiar for that matter. His eyes shot opened as enlarged blue orbs tried to adjust to the darkness that enveloped him.   
  
"Just relax, you are still fevered," the voice said not coming into Frodo's eyesight. "We will not harm you."  
  
The voice sounded strangely familiar. Frodo tried to raise his head to see who it was that was speaking, but the same hand guided his shoulder back down. "Where am I? Where are my friends? Sam!" Frodo hollered out, his breathing becoming distressed.  
  
"Your friends will know where you are soon enough. We are here to help you, if you will let us, Frodo Baggins."  
  
Frodo stopped cold. "How do you know my name? What do you mean help me? Who are you?" the questions sputtered out. Again raising his head gasping as a throbbing pain began in his leg.   
  
"You are very stubborn. Please, lay back down. You will make your leg bleed again," the voice said soothingly as the large hand came back forcing Frodo down. This time Frodo felt sleepy at once making no further attempt to get back up.  
  
"Please, tell me who you are," Frodo whispered struggling to keep his eyelids opened.  
  
"All in due time, my young hobbit. Now go to sleep," the voice commanded. Frodo finally lost the battle,closing his eyes, his breathing even and deep, as the hand tucked the blanket around the savior of Middle-Earth.  
  
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"Merry! Wait for me!" Pippin yelled out as his cousin hurried across the clearing towards the encampment.  
  
"Hurry, Pippin, we have to be there before Boromir gives the signal," Merry panted as his cousin finally caught up with him. Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf and Legolas had gone ahead to detain Larson from making his exchange with the Orcs. To convince them that if they were to help deter the Orcs from ever returning, would he let the prisoner go. Sam and Gimli had stayed at camp, packing their supplies. If all went well, they would be leaving soon.  
  
"Merry?" Pippin was being serious now.  
  
Merry already knew what Pip was going to say. He was just as concerned about their elder cousin. Who would want to take him? What was he going through? He needed care. Was someone caring for him? "I too am worried," he said trying to ease Pippin's fears,"I think this being can help Frodo. They seemed to have some kind of connection when Frodo released him. At least, that is what I am hoping."  
  
Pippin listened to Merry, but his attention was soon distracted by several big figures. He could barely make out the shapes as they approached the building that Frodo had been taken from. Once the moon had appeared from behind the clouds, it's light reflected off the armour plating and the steel blades of the weapons they carried. Pippin gasped, grabbing Merry's vest.  
  
"Pippin? What is it?" he questioned. When his cousin did not respond, he shifted his eyes following Pippin's gaze. Merry stiffened at what the moon's reflection revealed. Orcs. They were early. Boromir had not given his signal yet. "Oh no!" he hissed realizing most of the town had been gathered in there. "What are we to do now?"  
  
Merry and Pippin looked on horrified as the Orcs entered the building. "Come on!" Merry coaxed. "We've got to do something."  
  
Pippin found his voice again,"like what? Those are Orcs, Merry!" he reminded his cousin.  
  
Merry grabbed onto Pippin's hand, forcing him to run with him. His mind was racing with ideas that would distract the Orcs, maybe giving Strider...   
  
Screams were heard. Metal clashing, yells. One cry was very discernable. It was unmistakable. It had been Strider's. He had only heard it once before as they watched him battled the Nazgul, protecting Frodo's life. Then all was silence.   
  
Merry and Pippin stopped, stepping behind one of the tents. The only sound was their rasping breaths, the beating of their hearts, waiting.  
  
Hidden by the darkness, they saw the door open. Not expecting what their eyes revealed to them. Orcs came rushing passed the hobbits hiding place, unscathed. Noone else followed them. Not Strider brandishing his sword, Legolas with his bow, not even the great Wizard,Gandalf. Fear gripped them as the unthinkable happened. The members of the Fellowship had been slain.  
  
"We...we had better check, shouldn't we?" Pippin asked Merry already coming to the same conclusion. Merry nodded.  
  
They crept slowly towards the building expecting at any moment for the nightmare to end, when a pair of hands clapped them on their shoulders.  
  
Pippin screamed first, turning around to see who it was that had snuck up on them. Relieved to see Gimli's bearded face, he pulled his cousin up off the ground as Sam appeared catching his breath.   
  
"What's happened, lads? Where's Aragorn?" Gimli asked apprehensively as he too had seen the Orcs disappear into the distance.  
  
"We do not know. We heard all this screaming, sword clashing, then nothing. The Orcs came out, but not anyone else," Merry rambled.  
  
"Let's get in there! They may be hurt or worse," Sam declared.  
  
Gimli failed at catching Sam's cloak as he ran past, making for the entrance of the common room. Pippin and Merry followed with Gimli bringing up the rear.  
  
The remaining members of the Fellowship stopped dead in their tracks, appalled at the sight that laid before them. People everywhere, lying face down on the ground in pools of their own blood. Taking a deep breath, Gimli went in first. He was probably the only one left who was used to dead bodies lying about. He had been in many of raids taking Orcs by surprise. The reasoned with the hobbits love of life, they had never seen such bloodshed until they joined their cousin in his journey. Even then, Gandalf had made sure, up until now, that they avoided trouble such as this. Making his way through the sea of dead bodies, Gimli spotted the familiar braided blond hair belonging to Legolas, who now laid motionless before him. Next to him was Boromir's shield still attached to it's owner's arm his sword nowhere in sight. Strider lay beside him, his sword still in its sheath. Gimli never imagined that the future King of Gondor would have been brought down without even so much as him being able to draw his sword. He heard soft gasping noises as the hobbits crossed the room, stepping carefully over the bodies towards him. When Gimli turned back around to where he last looked, he observed a figure looming over him. He figured it had been Gandalf, since he had not seen him anywhere in the midst of the bodies. Relieved by the thought that a friend had still lived, he looked up "Gandalf..."  
  
Gimli was tongue tied. It was not Gandalf standing above him, but it was the being that had been saved by Frodo instead. The dwarf noticed that there was blood all over him, and in his right hand he was brandishing a bloody sword he recognized instantly as Boromir's.  
  
tbc.... 


	10. Chapter 10

Agent Pip-- I am going as fast as I can writing these new chapters...  
  
Budgielover--Earthquake? I'm sure I could find somewhere to fit that in :) Here is my resolution to Chap 9's cliffhanger.  
  
Elwen--more Frodo Angst coming.  
  
Breon Briarwood--I do hope your h/a has subsided and you are ready to continue reading.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. I just like to write about them.  
  
All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 10  
  
Slowly backing away from the being holding the sword, Gimli tripped over one of the many bodies that littered the floor. Being loaded down with his armor, he was unable to get up quickly, the only move he could make was to place his battle ax in front of him to hopefully block a deadly strike.   
  
"Gimli!" Pippin exclaimed, jumping over a body to get to his fallen companion, drawing his sword to protect his friend with his own life if necessary. "Get back, you. Do not come any closer!" he cautioned, but the being made no attempt to approach the Hobbit nor the Dwarf.  
  
"Stop, Pippin. He does not mean to harm us," Merry concluded placing his hand upon Pippin's blade.   
  
"But, Merry, he...Just look around you!" Pippin reasoned, his watery eyes taking in the sight of his massacred friends.   
  
"I am, but...this just does not feel right. Frodo sacrificed his safety to free him. Besides, he has made no attempt to harm you or Gimli. He is just standing there. Waiting," Merry said the last word to himself, crouching down next to one of the bodies. He cautiously placed a finger in the blood that was seeping from the head wound, bringing the now red colored digit to his nose, sniffing it. Then he brought the finger to his lips, tasting the red substance. "Ughhh," Merry spit onto the floor.   
  
"What is it?" Pippin asked as he observed his cousin make a sourface.   
  
"It tastes like sour cherries. What is going on?" Merry yelled out loud, drawing his weapon, inching towards Pippin and Sam who had just helped Gimli up off the floor. The four of them had their weapons drawn, the Hobbits assuming positions as if back on Weathertop.  
  
Carefully, they backed out the way they had come in, being mindful to step over the bodies. The being never followed them. Sam was stepping over Aragorn's body, in between his legs when his foot got caught on the Ranger's sheath, landing on his fallen comrade.  
  
"Oh," cough,"Elbereth," cough, cough.  
  
Sam could not get up quick enough when he heard the voice, scared out of his wits when one of the hands grabbed his arm. Swords and ax aimed at the moving body. "You're...You're...dead!"  
  
"It's all right, Samwise," Gandalf spoke softly, coming from the room Frodo had occupied earlier,hoping his presence would calm the pale faced Hobbit. "Peregrin and Meriadoc, put your swords down," the Grey Pilgrim commanded as he approached the stunned group, crossing over towards the being taking Boromir's sword from his grasp. "Gimli, please, put your ax away, you are going to scare Tobias."  
  
Gandalf the Grey took his staff,and whispered into it as he walked the length of the common room. Bluish tinted smoke rose from the center, creating a fog. When Gandalf returned to the point where he had began, the fog lifted, and the townspeople stirred, slowly coming back to life.   
  
Aragorn slowly sat up with the help of Legolas who somehow had been unaffected by Gandalf's spell.   
  
Soon Boromir was up, shaking his head. "Mithrandir, I had forgotten how that drained ones energy. It was easier when I was younger trying to scare my brother."   
  
"Will you tell us what is going on! Who is Tobias? We thought you all were dead. We saw the Orcs, you...you did not give us a signal..." Pippin rattled on, not breathing in between sentences looking into the faces of the Fellowship who remained on the ground.  
  
"Calm...down," Aragorn breathed in between spasms of pain,"we will...explain," he finished his sentence taking Pippin by the hand and bringing him down to sit with them. Merry and Gimli followed suit. Sam had not made a move since he had fallen upon the Ranger, still stunned how they could all be alive,except he was not sitting on Strider anymore.  
  
"We are sorry we had to scare you. Someone spotted the Orcs before we could put our plan in motion, so," Aragorn explained casting his eyes up at the Wizard, "Gandalf made it look like we had all been slaughtered by...by Tobias." The Hobbits looked up to Gandalf then to the silver being.  
  
"Well, the Orcs were not the only ones fooled. You should have been on this side looking in. We heard screams, your scream Strider," Sam calm enough, finally able to speak.  
  
"There was no time to warn you. No time to give a signal. We are sorry you had to go through that," Strider apologized. "Obviously, the plan worked. I remember nothing."  
  
"Bartholomew went along with the plan, to let Tobias go, as long as we were able to scare off the Orcs. I made it look like Tobias was an uncontrollable killer. Having killed the townspeople, the Orcs would have no reason to come back and raid their food stores," Gandalf explained. "Be'than, would you please bring some water to clean up our friend here?" he asked, then turned his attention back to the shortest members of the Fellowship who had not been introduced to their new guest.  
  
"This is Tobias," Gandalf introduced walking to Tobias and standing beside him.   
  
"Hello," Pippin said first,climbing to his feet approaching Tobias. When Tobias did not return his greeting, Pippin turned around and stared at Merry who just shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"He is mute, Pippin," Legolas offered squeezing Pippin's shoulders offering assurance. "He understands us, but does not speak."  
  
"You said he would know where Frodo was. Will he be able to take us to him?" Sam asked finally getting up off the floor making his way towards Gandalf.  
  
"Soon enough, Sam. He will take us to him. Tobias assures me that Frodo is being looked after."  
  
"How do you know? You just said he was a mute," Sam asked impatiently. He wanted to go to Frodo now. He would not feel any better until he sees his master for himself.  
  
"Patience, Samwise. I can communicate with him by feeling."  
  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
  
"Do not touch me!" Frodo wailed as he struggled weakley against his bonds as he felt a hand trying to unbutton his sweat soaked shirt. Beads of perspiration dripped off the halfling's brow as his fever began to rise. The voice was able to stave the Ringbearer off for a while, but as his temperature climbed, so did his stubborness and delirium. In his thrashing about, his injured leg had become huge, the stence of infection hanging in the air.  
  
"Just lie back and let me help you, Frodo. I promise I will not harm you," the voice said again.  
  
"Why...Why should I tr...trust you? You have bound me! I cannot even...see...you," he sputtered out, quirking his eyebrows together, in between bouts of throbbing pain. His leg had become so heavy with fluid that he could not even kick anymore.   
  
"You were hurting yourself. I hated to do it, but I had no choice." The voice tried another tactic,"Will you at least take some water? You must be thirsty, as hot as you are? Hmm?" the voice coaxed, bringing the ceramic mug to his lips, holding the fevered Hobbit as he drank.  
  
Frodo welcomed the crisp wet drink, moistening his cotton mouth, emptying its contents. His arms still bound to his sides, he allowed the faceless voice to settle him back down onto the padded surface. "Please, where are my friends? Why am I here? What do you want with me?" he begged, his eyelids half closing from exhaustion. Always, the thought of the Ring was never far from his mind, the only reason he was ever being hunted. Again he felt the hand tug at his buttons, and once more he struggled against his bonds, the rope digging into his wrists. He had no strength left. They were going to take it from him. He could not prevent it from happening. "I failed," he whispered to himself, tears mixing in with his sweating face. "Gandalf! Help!" his cry echoing, panting heavily.  
  
"Frodo, listen, your friends will be here, believe me," the voice said, trying to calm the squirming Hobbit before he injured himself any further.  
  
"That is right, we will be here. Now, kindly step away from him," Aragorn voiced through the darkness.   
  
"I mean him no harm, heir of Gondor," the dark cloaked figure stated as he turned to face the Fellowship.  
  
Aragorn immediately recognized the face that belonged to the cloaked figure,"YOU!?"  
  
Hawthorne faced Aragorn's sword as well as Legolas' arrow. Sam, on the other hand, broke off from the group, running towards the pedastal Frodo was tied to.  
  
"Samwise!" Gandalf yelled, failing to grab the blur as the gardener ran by.  
  
"Mr. Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" Sam screamed out, his nimble fingers fumbling trying to untie Frodo's wrists.  
  
"S...Sam, help me," Frodo moaned as he tried to concentrate on the voice that was calling to him. Sam climbed up onto the padded rock formation, massaging his master's wrists, that were once bound. Frodo, with half lidded eyes, slightly smiled at his friend before he closed them all the way letting darkness take him.   
  
Aragorn sheathed his sword, questioning Hawthorne's intentions, "Why had you brought him here? How do you know..."  
  
"It does not matter how I know. Just know this, my intentions are only to help him because he helped a kindred spirit," Hawthorne revealed as Aragorn made his way to the pedastal Frodo was on, using it as a bed. Looking into the Ring-bearers slackened pale face, he knew they were losing him.   
  
"Tobias called to me for help. He told me a kind hearted spirit saved him from terrible harm, but resulted in getting injured himself. When your traveling companions came into camp yesterday with your injured friend, I knew then of whom had helped Tobias. I stole him away because I knew the Orcs would be coming, and they would have killed your friend for what it is that he carries," Hawthorne reasoned, standing beside Tobias who had made his way up to the table where his savior laid, dying.   
  
"How long has he had the fever?" Aragorn asked, wiping Frodo's brow with the cool cloth that was handed to him by Sam. It was at that moment that he realized all of the Fellowship had gathered around their companion, with Merry and Pippin being held by Boromir and Gandalf, each with reddened eyes.  
  
"Strider. Cannot you do anything for him? Like at Weathertop?" Pippin asked, wiping his tear streaked face on his sleeve. Pippin already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it out loud. Taking a deep breath, he felt a hand lay his head down on the Gondorian's shoulder, patting it like a toddler being comforted. Merry looked on from Gandalf's arms with the same conclusion written on his face.   
  
Knowing it was too late,Aragorn assessed the angry red marks streaking up Frodo's swollen leg, the damage already done. He then ripped the legs of the Hobbit's breeches to reveal the trail going all the way up the thigh. The infection alone told him what the outcome was going to be. If he had only found the herbs, if he could have stopped the bleeding, if Frodo had not been taken! 'If, If, If...' Schooling his anger well, he glanced at Gandalf as he tried to figure out how he was going to tell the Ring-bearer's cousins that he did not have long to live. That the kindest thing they could to do to make it an easy and painless death, would be to smother him.  
  
As if Hawthorne knew what was going through his head, he interrupted Aragorn's thoughts,"Before you decide the best course of action to take, let Tobias have a few moments with him. It was, after all, because of him that Frodo placed his life in jeopardy, unselfishly," he asked, somehow making Frodo's death actually mean something.   
  
Aragorn looked to Gandalf then to the rest of the Fellowship for their vote. With all heads nodding, they backed away from the table, except for Sam, who had to be dragged away by Legolas.   
  
"No! I will not leave him. He needs me!" he yelled out to anyone who would listen, as the distance between him and his master lengthened.  
  
Aragorn could not take the emotion Sam was feeling, because he himself wanted to scream out just as loud. He took Sam from Legolas' arms, but Sam wiggled away from him, closing the gap quickly before Aragorn found him back at Frodo's side squeezing tightly one of his master's hands hanging limply over the edge of the pedastal. Aragorn knelt down on one knee and for the first time during their travels together, embraced Samwise Gamgee the Gardener, Samwise the Brave, Samwise the best friend anyone could ever have. Sam let go of all the tears he had pent up, hugging Strider back, still holding onto Frodo's hand.  
  
Tobias moved to the farthest side of the table to let the two friends be. He did not need to see the emotion, he already felt it in the air. He needed to concentrate. Tobias placed a hand upon Frodo's brow and one on his chest. Closing his eyes, he communicated with the Ring-bearer. How sorry he was for what had happened and to thank him for rescuing him, but Frodo was not angry. He was just a little sad for leaving his friends so early in life. Sorry for letting Gandalf down, sorry that his beloved Shire would be no more.   
  
After a few moments, a small glow imminated from beneathe Tobias' hands. He mentally moved the bright white light down to Frodo's injured leg, healing the tissues from the inside out, the entrance and exit wound non-existant. The bright red streaks slowly disappearing all together. His body temperature coming back to normal. Tobias then moved to Frodo's left hand, healing that wound as well. As he was about to break the bond, Tobias felt something strange as he sensed another injury upon the Hobbit. An injury of great evil had resided further up the arm, a nameless face. It was hiding out, lying dormant. He tried reaching it with his mind when he heard an evil voice. 'Do not come between a Nazgul and its prey'. Then it broke all physical and mental contact between Tobias and Frodo, its energy throwing the empath to the ground.  
  
"Strider...squeezing...hard," Sam mumbled into the Ranger's shoulder.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"My hand..." Sam said lifting his head off Aragorn's shoulder, trying to break the embrace.  
  
"Oh, sorry. I not know my own srength..." he was cut-off by a frantic Sam.  
  
"No. Frodo. He's squeezing my hand. Hard. E-OWW!" Sam yelled out, prying his hand from Frodo's grip.  
  
Turning his head to the side and finally understanding what Sam had meant, the Ranger quickly stood up to peer over the ailing Hobbit, only to find Frodo's cornflower blue orbs staring back up at him.  
  
Sam had climbed back onto the top of the pedastal and cried out not believing his eyes, smothering his friend with hugs, "Oh, Frodo! You're all right! Your fever's gone. Your leg...its...its healed! Strider, look!"   
  
"Hello, Sam," his strong voice rang out as he hugged his friend back suddenly remembering Tobias. "Where's Tob...Tobias?" he asked worriedly.  
  
"Do not worry, Frodo, he is all right. Just take it easy for a moment," Hawthorne said, finally appearing in Frodo's line of vision escorting Tobias away from the emotional reunion.  
  
Hearing Sam's voice ring out in the cavern, Merry and Pippin broke away from strong arms, running towards Frodo, ready for the worst. The big folk followed preparing themselves for what they were about to find. A distraught Sam crying over his master.  
  
Everyone stopped in their tracks, not believing their eyes. It was not a distraught Sam, but a happy, excited, Sam. Aragorn was bending over Frodo, helping him to sit up. It was a good thing he was still supporting the Ring-bearer, because the force Merry and Pippin built up as they hugged their cousin fiercely, would have knocked him right off the pedastal. Tears of joy flowed from all within the Fellowship as they were reunited.  
  
Then the inevitable was finally asked. "What's to eat!" Pippin asked, pinching his cousin's stomach. "Frodo has not eaten for...", he had to think, then,"two days!"  
  
"Sam, you go start something, I would like a word with Hawthorne, then fully examine Frodo," Aragorn said. Frodo simply stared into the Ranger's face, not believing what he had just heard.   
  
"Now, Aragorn. I am fine. The last time you examined me, you hurt...I do not want to think about it," he stated flatly.   
  
"I just want to see you walk," Aragorn said, picking Frodo up and gently placing him on the ground, letting him get his bearings. "Ok?" Aragorn asked.  
  
Frodo held onto either one of Aragorn's arms, and nodded. He placed his right foot forward, then raised his left foot, bending it at the knee. He took a step, placing all weight upon it. He let go of Aragorn's arms and started to walk, slowly at first, then maintained a steady pace. Pleased with his progress, he turned around and faced his friend. "Well? Did I pass?"  
  
"Yes, just take it easy," Strider said, satisfied with the fully recovered Hobbit.  
  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
  
After Sam had made dinner, everyone sat around the fire to enjoy another hot meal. Hawthorne had brought in a fully rested Tobias.  
  
All eyes were upon the two, wondering how Tobias had healed Frodo. Nothing less than a miracle.   
  
"I feel there is an explanation to be said here," Hawthorne interrupted the silence as utensils were heard clanking into dishes, everyone all ears.  
  
"Tobias is a unique individual. He is an empath. He is mute, but can communicate in ways beyond our understanding. I encountered what you would call his maternal grandmother some years ago. She had wondered through a portal that had been left open accidently. I learned much from her, training my mind to be opened to new ideas," he explained, seeing opened mouths, blank expressions.   
  
"I had already explained to you how I knew about Frodo. Tobias had learned from his grandmother that there was someone here, in this realm that would heed his calls. He also had happened upon that same portal his gamma came through years ago. I recognized the familiar emotion, long before Bartholomew told me what happened. I am sorry Lord Aragorn, for deceiving you, but secrecy had to be maintained. I was just in as much danger from the Orcs as Tobias was if they ever found out I could communicate with him. I was the one who rendered your guard unconcious as well as Sam. I did it for Frodo's sake as well as Middle-Earth," he finished.  
  
When everyone nodded, and Aragorn accepted the apology, Hawthorne spoke up once more, "And now, I must be leaving. I am taking Tobias back home. His session with Frodo has drained him somewhat. He can not communicate with me what exactly took place."  
  
"But you are staying there as well?" Gandalf spoke up, inclining his head.  
  
"Yes. I feel I could learn more from them. Hone up on my healing skills," he said getting up with Tobias getting to his feet.   
  
Frodo got to his feet as well and slowly walked to Tobias. Tobias bent down on one knee to Frodo's eye level. Frodo looked into the deep soul, smiled, then gave him a hug. When he released Tobias, he spoke,"Thank you for everything."  
  
Tobias nodded, rose to his full height and followed Hawthorne out of the cave. All waved goodbye until they could no longer see the silver reflected from the moonlight.  
  
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&  
  
Sometime later, after everyone was asleep, Aragorn got up and walked over to where Gandalf was taking watch.   
  
"You are bothered?"  
  
"Yes," he answered looking at the four Hobbits huddled together underneathe a mound of blankets.  
  
"Frodo's recovery?"  
  
"Did he heal everything?"  
  
"No. That wound will never fully heal. He will have it the rest of his life."  
  
the end. 


End file.
